


live like kings

by elliott (amywaited)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bullied Peter Parker, Cute, Dad Steve, Dad Steve Rogers, FIx It, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Angst, Peter Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter gets kidnapped, Running Away, Sad Peter, Supervillain, Torture, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug, avengers as a family, dad tony, dad tony stark, tortured peter parker, wade & the avengers, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-03-11 07:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 80,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13519956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amywaited/pseuds/elliott
Summary: alternatively titled: cotton candy clouds.“one day,” wade says, “we’ll live like kings.”(tony is over protective, natasha is awesome and clint, well, clint likes to throw chinese food at people)





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god!! hope you like!
> 
> ! im writing this as if peter is 18, and wade is 20-24. im doing my best not to make a big thing about wades age, so that if you particularly want to read it as his canon age, you can. just thought it worth noting that, as i write it, wade is in his early twenties. !

“Do you think I’m crazy?” Wade asks, staring at Peter. His eyes were sharp, unnaturally focused and weirdly serious.

  
“What?”

  
“Do you think I’m crazy?” Wade repeats. He spreads his hands and gestures to the poster board between them. “Think this is crazy?”

  
“Think making a poster about where we’ll run away to is crazy?” Peter says, shaking his head. “No. Maybe a little obsessive, but not crazy.”

  
“What about me?”

  
“Do I think you’re crazy?” Peter raises an eyebrow at Wade. “Not a chance in hell.”

  
Wade giggles and uncaps his red sharpie. “Good. Because I think we might have to do some crazy stuff.”

  
“How crazy?”

  
“Steal-a-car crazy?”

  
“I’m not stealing a car!” Peter shrieks. “I’m not stealing anything!”

  
Wade doubtfully meets Peter’s eyes. “How do we get here then?” He jabs the non-inky tip of the pen at their destination.

  
Peter shrugs helplessly. “Public transport? We can walk.”

  
Wade stares at him, unimpressed. “Walk? Really?”

  
“Hey, I don’t know! We could get a bus.”

  
Wade taps the pen on his chin. “That could.. work. But we’d have to walk from the bus stop.”

  
“Thats only an hour or so, right?”

  
“Only,” Wade says, monotonously.

  
“We can do that,” Peter says. “Look, its thirty dollars per ticket for that. Not that bad. Less expensive than gas money, or bail money or the money we’d get fined if we stole a freaking car.”

  
Wade grins. “You have a point. Okay, so we get the bus to here and then walk the rest of the way?”

  
“Yep. The property is completely empty, and its blocked off so there won’t be anyone there. Its not like anybody will be waiting for us, so we can take as long as we need.”

  
“What you mean is I can take as long as I need as I carry all our bags.”

  
“Are you offering?” Peter asks, batting his eyelashes at Wade. Wade snorts. “Anyway, we agreed on one bag per person, right? So I’ll carry mine and you carry yours.”

  
“Can I bring a weapon?”

  
“We’ve been through this, Wade! No, you cannot bring a sword, a knife, a gun or, hell, even a sharp stick.”

  
Wade grumbles under his breath. “Fine. But how else will I protect you?”

  
Peter smiles. “We’ll be living on a farm in the middle of nowhere. I won’t need protecting,” He taps Wade’s nose. “Oh, knight in shining armour.”

  
“More like ‘Murderer in red spandex’,” Wade corrects.

  
Peter giggles before his phone alarm interrupts him. “Shoot. Dad gets home in five minutes,” he starts packing up their poster board and all his sharpies. “You should go.”

  
Wade recaps the red sharpie painfully slowly and drops it onto Peter’s desk. “Okay. See you at eight?”

  
“If I get all my homework done, it’ll be seven thirty,” Peter says, shoving the board under his bed. He picks up his blue and Wade’s red sharpie and deposits them in his pen pot (the one decorated with Spider-man, a gift from Tony. Wade had willingly covered it in rainbow, glittery, foam letter stickers so it read ‘Spideypool’. Whatever that meant.)

  
“Seven thirty? Sweet!” Wade says. “Goodbye kiss?”

  
Peter complies, leaning up on his tippy-toes to peck Wade’s lips. “Now go! Before they see you.”

  
Wade grins. “I can’t wait for the day they’ll accept us without killing me or you.”

  
“They’d kill you, because you’d be revived from it,” Peter says. “Text me when you’re down, okay?” He tells Wade, before shoving his boyfriend out the window. He watched as Wade fell the ninety six floors, all the while making hearts with his hands and blowing Peter kisses.

  
Peter’s phone pinged a few seconds later.

  
**From Wade** im down. landed in that fucking dumpster again. there is rotting banana juice in unsavoury places  
**From Peter** bananas have juice?  
**From Wade** apparently so. its dripping down my back right now so i guess they do  
**From Peter** thats disgusting. go shower.  
**From Wade** k. see u later bby  
**From Peter** bby? i dont like it  
**From Wade** well u wouldnt would u  
**From Peter** shower. go. see u at 8  
**From Wade** unless u do ur hwk then its 730  
**From Peter** cant do homework if i have someone harassing me  
**From Wade** lol. see u

  
Peter clicks his phone off, smiling out the window he pushed Wade from. The elevator pings, pulling him from his daydream.

  
“Dad!” Peter shouts, running into the living room, where he knew Tony would be waiting.

  
“Hey, kid!” Tony replies, just as enthusiastically. “How was school?”

  
“Crappy,” Peter says, solemnly. “Also, did you know rotting bananas have juice?”

  
Tony chuckled. “How’d you figure that one out?”

  
“My friend fell in a dumpster.”

  
“Wow. Okay,” Tony says. “Why was your day crappy?”

  
“I got an F in my english assignment. Teachers don’t understand that sometimes I can’t see the words.”

  
Tony hums sympathetically. “Need me to re-explain what dyslexia means to them?”

  
“No. Its fine.”

  
“I can bring Steve along. Or maybe Thor.”

  
“You can’t scare my teachers into giving me top marks,” Peter says, smiling. “How was your day?”

  
“The usual,” Tony says. “The usual. Pepper kept on my ass about this PR event I’m expected to go to tomorrow. Only she didn’t tell me about it till today, so I have no idea what it’s about, what I’m expected to wear or whether I can bring a plus one.”

  
“Ask her,” Peter says.

  
“If you had a stick, would you poke the bear?” Tony asks. “I’m pretty certain she’s mentioned it to me before. I’m just forgetting.”

  
“Well, whatever you wear will look great,” Peter tells him firmly.

  
“Keep it up, kid. Keep fanning my ego.”

  
Peter grins. “I can’t tell where you start and your ego ends.”

  
Tony glares at him playfully. “Thats cold.”

  
Peter shrugs. “Whats for dinner?”

  
“Oh, don’t you go changing the subject, young man. Did you just say I have an enormously big ego?”

  
“Did you just admit it?”

  
Tony grins. “I would come round there and chase you, but I’m getting old,” He moans.

  
“Stop complaining. Steve is older.”

  
“He doesn’t look it!” Tony says. “Whatever. I have no clue what dinner is. I think Bucky’s been cooking lately, so whatever it is will be good.”

  
Peter nods. “Bucky cooks?”

  
“And bakes, apparently. Where did you think all the home baked cupcakes were coming from?”

  
“I just thought you had employed a really good assistant.”

  
Tony pats Peter on the shoulder. “Nope. Don’t you have homework?”

  
Peter nods. “Yes, I do. I’m putting it off though, because I lost my glasses.”

  
“Your need-to-see ones or your dyslexia ones?”

  
“Dyslexia,” Peter says. “I have some of those coloured sheet things but I hate using them.”

  
Tony hums before rummaging around in one of the drawers in the book case. “Here.” He holds out a glasses case to Peter.

  
“Do you just have pairs of glasses scattered around for me?”

  
“Well, I know how much of a scatterbrain you are,” Tony says. “But now you have glasses. Now you can do homework.”

  
Peter groans, sliding the coloured glasses onto his nose.

  
“What homework is it?” Tony asks.

  
“I’ll get it. Mostly science but its biology science and I hate biology with a passion.”

  
Peter wanders off to his room and Tony follows him. He kicks a stray sharpie under his desks , thanking his lucky stars that he had managed to clear everything away before Tony got back.

  
“This,” Peter says, holding out a worksheet pack to Tony.

  
Tony takes one look at it and groans. “That looks like a foreign language to me. Ask Bruce. I’m an engineer, not a biologist.”

  
Peter sighs. “Fine. Thanks for being useless, Dad,” He says sarcastically.

  
Tony grins and lightly punches Peter’s shoulder. “Bruce is.. Um.”

  
“I’ll find him,” Peter says. “Do we have cookies?”

  
Tony frowns. “Dunno. You hungry?”

  
“Always,” Peter says, smiling sweetly at Tony.

  
“Hang on- I’m not about to become your personal slave, Peter,” Tony says.

  
Peter chuckles. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  
“Fine!” Tony exclaims. “Fine, I’ll bring you cookies.”

  
Peter’s eyes twinkle. “Well, if you say so,” he says, before sliding out of his room and skidding down the hallway in his socks.

  
“Hey, no running!” Steve all but yells, as he exits the elevator.

  
“Oh- hey Pops!” Peter exclaims, almost slipping in an attempt to stop himself.

  
“Hey, Pete,” Steve says. “Whatcha got there?”

  
“Homework,” Peter says, with a barely suppressed groan. “Dad says he can’t help because he’s an engineer, not a biologist. So I need to find Bruce. But Dad agreed to bring me cookies so.”

  
“You,” Tony says, wandering out of Peter’s room. “Are manipulative.”

  
“Hey,” Peter says. “You were the one who offered.”

  
Steve grins between them. “Hi, Tony. Why don’t we let Peter get on with his homework, and I’ll bring some cookies to you?”

  
Peter sags at the thought of homework. 

  
“Go, Peter. Sooner you get it done, the better,” Tony says.

  
“I’m going,” Peter grumbles. “Going, going, going.” He shuffles into the elevator Steve just exited, and asks Jarvis to take him to “Wherever Bruce is.”

 

*

  
Bruce is sitting at the kitchen table on their common floor, eating a green apple. There’s a steaming mug of what smells like strawberry and cranberry herbal tea in front of him too.

  
“Hey, Bruce!”

  
“Peter, hi,” Bruce says, crunching a bite of apple. “Whats up?”

  
“Can you help?” Peter asks. “I have bio homework and Tony is refusing to help me because he’s apparently unable to do biology at all ever.”

  
Bruce chuckles. “Sure. Lets see?”

  
Peter slides his sheet over and watches Bruce scan it quickly.

  
“This isn’t too hard,” Bruce says. “It’s just the little things you need to watch out for.”

 

*

  
They’re three quarters done with it when Steve (with Tony in tow, because, really, when did they go anywhere without the other) arrives with a plate of cookies. They look warm, melty and gooey.

  
“You did bring them!” Peter shouts, jumping up. “Awesome!”

  
“Yeah, kid,” Tony said. “You’re lucky Bucky was stress baking just now.”

  
“Bucky stress bakes?” Peter asks, nabbing a cookie from Steve’s plate. He takes a bite. “Actually, I don’t care if Bucky stress bakes or not. As long as he keeps freaking baking, I couldn’t care less.”

  
Steve smiles. “Don’t eat too many before dinner, okay? Bucky made pizza dough, so I guess we’re having pizza.”

  
“Pizza? Cool,” Peter says. “Oh- I’m going out at eight, is that okay?”

  
“Out where?” Tony asks.

  
“Patrolling, maybe,” Peter lies.

  
“Alright,” Steve says. “Back before midnight, okay? It is a school night. And get all your homework done first.”

  
Peter gestures to the sheet with his pencil. “I’m trying. Only certain people keep distracting me.”

  
Tony chuckles. “Alright, kid. Dinner will be done about half six, okay?”

  
“Okay,” Peter agrees. “Now shoo. I have work to do!”

  
“Where on earth do you get your sass from, young man? Don’t speak to your elders like that!” Tony says.

  
“I wonder,” Steve says, dryly. “I really do.”

  
Peter grins, before turning back to Bruce and chewing the eraser tip on the end of his pencil. “So, whats this one?”

  
Bruce smiles. “You tell me?” Neither of them notice Tony dragging Steve off, after taking a couple of photos.

 

*

  
“I could get used to this,” Peter says (although it would be more accurate to say half groaned). “This is- this is amazing, Bucky, seriously.”

  
Bucky didn’t even look minutely embarrassed. He did, however, take another bite from his slice of homemade, sourdough pizza. “Thanks.”

  
Peter grins at the man before shovelling almost an entire slice into his mouth at once.

  
“Don’t choke, Pete,” Steve says, flicking his eyes to Peter. Then to Tony, who was staring open mouthed at their son. “Don’t gape, Tony. You’ll catch flies.”

  
“Hilarious, Steve,” Tony says, glaring at Steve. “Anyway, we need to book an appointment with Peter’s school.”

  
“No- No, Dad, you really don’t,” Peter says. “You really, really don’t and I already told you that its fine.”

  
“You might have told me that, but that doesn’t mean I believe it,” Tony says. “I’m going in to talk to them.”

  
“Why do we need to meet with the principal?” Steve asks, “And if Peter says it fine, then surely its fine.”

  
“See! See, Dad? Pops gets it, and I say its fine! Its nothing I can’t handle, and its not like its the first time its happened.”

  
Tony glared at Steve. “Maybe we should explain what happened before letting Steve make any decisions. Since he doesn’t know what he’s deciding.”

  
“Fine,” Peter sighs. “I got an F in my English assignment because of my dyslexia, and none of the teachers understand that.”

  
Bucky stares at Peter. “What else?”

  
“Uh- what do you mean ‘what else’?” Peter asks, his voice jumping up an octave (or three. Damn, puberty).

  
“Something else happened,” Bucky presses.

  
“Nothing else happened,” Peter says firmly.

  
“Well, regardless of what did and didn’t happen,” Steve says, “Maybe we could settle for sending an email to the school, instead of terrorising them into giving Peter straight A’s.”

  
“A scary phone call?” Tony suggests.

  
Steve smiles. “Maybe. Now, did anything else happen at school today?”

  
Peter groans. “Just let it go,” he says. “Its happened before, you don’t need to worry about it because I am sorting it out. Its not your problem, okay? I’m fine, school is fine. Stop worrying.”

  
“We’re your parents,” Tony says, “We were made to worry about you. And what’s happened before? What don’t we need to worry about?”

  
“Nothing,” Peter says. “Like I said, its not your problem. Doesn’t concern you.”

  
“Peter,” Steve says gently, “if its something that concerns you, then it is our problem, a little bit.”

  
Peter shoves his chair back. “It isn’t your problem at all. I’m going out. I’ll be back by midnight.”

  
He stalks off, into his room, where he changes into his spider suit in record time, pockets his phone and is swinging out of his bedroom window before Steve and Tony even begin to think about stopping him.

 

*

  
“Wade?” Peter says, hanging upside down under a bridge somewhere.

  
“Wassup?” Wade answers the phone.

  
“You busy right now?” Peter asks.

  
“No. Why? Did you finish early?”

  
“Sort of,” Peter says. “Can you meet me under the bridge now?”

  
“Anything for you, princess,” Wade agrees and Peter can hear his smile. “Did something happen?”

  
“Just.. come. Please?”

  
“I’m coming. Going. I’m leaving right now.” There was a rush of activity from Wade’s end. “Want to stay on the line?”

 

“No. I’ll see you in..”

  
“Two minutes,” Wade says. “See you in two.”

 

*

  
Wade is actually there in one minute, thirty seven seconds. Not that Peter counted. He was still hanging upside down, letting all the blood rush into his head.

  
“Hey, Spidey!” Wade announced, and the eyes on his Deadpool mask widened and wiggled.

  
Peter grinned behind his own. “Hey.”

  
“You okay?” Wade asked, reaching over to pull Peter’s mask up so it revealed his lips.

  
“I’m fine. It got a little noisy at home,” Peter puckered his lips, and Wade delivered, kissing him softly for a couple of seconds.

  
“Good or bad noisy? And can you, like, come right way up now? I know we’ve mastered the art of upside down kissing, but right way up is just as good.”

  
Peter grins. “Sure.” He drops and then jumps to his feet. “And bad noisy.”

  
So Wade kisses him again. “Wanna talk?”

  
“Not really.”

  
“Do I need to, and this is very important, do I need to sucker punch any one?” Wade asks, seriously.

  
“No, you most definitely do not need to physically hurt my classmates,” Peter says, giggling.

  
“Aha! So, its a school thing?” Wade asks.

  
“Yeah,” Peter says. “Its a school thing.”

  
“So,” Wade repeats. “Do you require my services?”

  
“I have no idea what to make of that,” Peter says.

  
“Does anyone need brutally murdering?” Wade rephrased, grinning when Peter’s eyes widened.

  
“No. Absolutely not. My classmates may be the actual worst people I know, but that does not get solved by my over protective boyfriend killing them.”

  
“Teasing, babe,” Wade grins. “Lets stop talking about murder. You should never talk about work while on a date.”

  
Peter grumbles something under his breath.

  
“What?” Wade asks.

  
“I don’t like when you kill people for money.”

  
“I know,” Wade says, “But it is sort of my job.”

  
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  
“I don’t either,” Wade says. “Well, actually-”

  
“If you’re about to tell me that you enjoy killing people,” Peter holds up a hand, “Then I won’t be very happy.”

  
Wade leans in to steal a peck from Peter’s lips. “Fine. Wanna get some food?”

  
“As Spider-man and Deadpool, or Peter and Wade?”

  
“Spidey and Deadpool,” Wade says instantly. “Your ass looks incredible.”

  
Peter can’t help it. He flushes bright red under his mask, and slaps at Wade’s arm lightly. “Stop it. And what food do you want?”

  
“Whatever’s cheapest,” Wade shrugs. “Haven’t been paid in a while.”

  
“You know, I can get my Dad to hook you up with some cash,” Peter tells him. “It would mean you can stop killing and I can stop worrying.”

  
“Worrying about me, or my financial situation?”

  
“Worrying about what happens to you because of your financial situation,” Peter says. “I’ll pay. Come on, anything but pizza, okay?”

  
“Pizza? You love pizza.”

  
“Don’t love it tonight.”

  
Wade falls silent. “Okay.”

  
“Mexican?” Peter asks after a few minutes of silence and aimless walking around.

  
“Tacos?” Wade says, hopefully.

  
“Sure,” Peter smiles. “Lets go find some tacos.”

 

*

  
“Hey,” Wade says, crunching on his fourth taco shell, “What happens when a Spiderman and a Deadpool walk into a taco restaurant?”

  
Peter groans and resists banging his head on the table. “You’ve tried to set that joke up five times now, and each time you laughed so hard you couldn’t tell me the punchline. Please, give up.”

  
“No chance, Spidey,” Wade says, already starting to giggle like a three year old. “I need to make sure you hear it at least once.”

  
“I’ve heard part of it five times,” Peter says, fiddling with the hem of his mask. It was sitting on his nose after he’d pushed it up enough that he could eat. Nothing was more embarrassing then walking around with sour cream smeared into it.

  
“Don’t put your mask down yet,” Wade says. “And I know, I know. Its- its just hilarious.”

  
“How about I just google it?” Peter asks. “It’d be about eight times quicker, I’m sure.” He pulls out his phone and unlocks it.

  
“Fine,” Wade says. “Hey, what time did you have to be back?”

  
“Uh, midnight,” Peter says, typing the punchline of Wade’s joke into his search bar. “Why?”

  
“Uh-” Wade gestures at the analog clock above the door. “Look.”

  
“Shit!” Peter exclaims. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

  
“Normally I love it when you swear,” Wade says. “Not so much, now.”

  
“Shush,” Peter mutters. “I have to go.” He slaps a twenty on the table, tucking it under a napkin, and shoves his phone into his pocket. “Oh, crap. I have nowhere near enough time to make it back. I cannot web across all of New York in five minutes.”

  
Wade stands up, putting a hand on Peter’s arm. “Sure you can. Here, I’ll even give you a boost.”

  
Peter wrinkles his nose before pulling his mask down. “Um, I love you, but no thanks.”

  
Wade chuckles. “Love you too. See you tomorrow?”

  
“It nearly is tomorrow,” Peter points out. “I’ll text you. If you don’t hear from me in three days, trigger the apocalypse. Then I’ll be able to get out my room and see you.”

  
“Right,” Wade says. “Because starting the apocalypse will totally earn me Iron Man’s blessing.”

  
“I actually think it’ll be Cap’s you’ll have to earn,” Peter says. “But you’ll get points if you manage to save me from a life threatening situation. Anyway, bye, okay? Seriously, gotta go.”

  
“Alright, Cinderella. Don’t let your carriage turn into a pumpkin,” Wade grins. “If you can, text me after school. I can come over and work on our plan, if you want.”

  
“Will do, if I can,” Peter says. He squeezes Wade’s hand. “See you.”

  
Wade watches as Peter webs himself away. Half of him tries to swallow his heart out of his throat, and the other busies itself whooping a yelling, because heck, that thing flying across the New York City skyline was his.

 

*

  
“Where the hell have you been?” Tony demands, as soon as Peter arrives in the elevator.

  
“Uh-”

  
“You said you’d come home at midnight. Its now half past. And you also left in the middle of a meal, in the middle of an argument.”

  
“I’m tired,” Peter says, and its only a half lie. He is tired, but he also wants to text Wade. “Can we do this tomorrow?”

  
“No we certainly can not!”

  
Peter sighs and collapses on his bed. He tunes out most of Tony’s infuriated rant by trying to think of a way to conduct electricity in his webs. Electri-webs. It could be cool. He mentally files it in his ‘Things to try when Dad isn’t around’ folder.

  
There were a lot of things in there that defied lab safety, to various degrees. (Of course, Tony knew all about defying lab safety. But apparently, it was fine whenever he did it, but as soon as Peter so much as looked at a blow torch without Steve or Tony knowing why, then he got a lengthy lecture. Although the lectures weren’t too bad, because he could generally fall asleep for them. Which was nice, meant he got more sleep.)

  
“Did you listen to any of that?” Tony asks, once he’s finished.

  
Peter weighs the pros and cons of lying. The outcome isn’t so good. “No,” He says slowly. “Because it was only half an hour. And I was fine, and you shouldn’t have worried so much. And I’m sorry about dinner, its just because I had already told you that you didn’t need to worry and then you kept pushing. And then I didn’t want you pushing me anymore, so I got up and went out. Really, you’re lucky I didn’t try to web you all together or something as equally as suicidal.”

  
Tony sighs. “We just worry about you, kid. If things are happening at school, we want to know about them. If things are happening in your life, or in Spider-man’s life, then we want to know. Its because we care.”

  
“I know you do,” Peter says. “But you could also care by respecting me when I say no and ask you not to worry about it. At least, if you’re going to worry about it, do so when I’m not there.”

  
“I know, Peter. Me and Steve both. And we are sorry for pushing.”

  
“If something really was wrong, I’d tell you. You have to trust me on that,” Peter says. “Can I go to sleep now?”

  
Tony smiles and nods. “Yeah. Sure. So, where’d you go tonight?”

  
“Stopped by, uh, Gwens. Then went patrolling for a bit.”

  
“Cool. Is Gwen good?” Tony asks. “You should have her over her one day.”

  
“I think maybe I’d like her to remain my friend for a little bit longer. Sleep?”

  
“Sleep,” Tony agrees. “Sleep tight, kid.” He ruffles Peter’s hair affectionately, and then leaves.

  
Peter falls asleep easily, and in his head, he dreams of his and Wade’s poster board and big, giant plan.

 

*

  
He wakes up to a multitude of texts from Wade.

  
**From Wade** get home okay?  
**From Wade** u okay?  
**From Wade** were they mad?  
**From Wade** guess so. I’ll be at the bridge today  
**From Wade** bring the plans if u come  
**From Wade** love you

  
Peter smiles at his phone, still blinking sleep from his eyes.

  
**From Peter** hey im okay. dad was up when i got home so i got a bit of a lecture. ill see if i can drop by tonight. same time?  
**From Wade** thank fuck i thought youd died and the only thing id be left with was your small intestine or something  
**From Wade** and yeah same time  
**From Peter** my small intestine? why not my large?  
**From Wade** fuck if i know  
**From Peter** can u call?  
**From Wade** sure

  
“Hey,” Peter whispers into his phone.

  
“Good morning!” Wade says, “Why are you whispering?”

  
“No idea,” Peter says at a normal volume. “So, eight?”

  
“Eight,” Wade confirms. “Bring your sharpies.”

  
“Okay. We need to decide on a date.”

  
“I know,” Wade says. “I know. Don’t you have school today?”

  
“Yep. But not for another hour. I can talk while I get ready.”

  
“I am so glad that I didn’t go to college,” Wade says. “So, so glad.”

  
“I’m not at college yet,” Peter says. “We could go together.”

  
“Yeah, no. Besides, you’d go to some expensive, fancy, your-IQ-has-to-be-this-high-to-be-even-worthy-of-stepping-inside college.”

  
“No, I won’t,” Peter says. “I might be smart, but I’m not that smart.”

  
Wade grumbles. “You so are.”

  
“Peter?” Tony calls from outside his room, “Are you being self deprecating again?”

  
“One sec,” Peter says to Wade, “Nope!” he yells to Tony. “Not at all!”

  
“Can I come in?” Tony asks.

  
“Gotta go,” Peter says to Wade, just as Tony pushes open his bedroom door. “Dad! What if I was naked?”

  
“Well, you aren’t, and I’ve already seen you naked,” Tony hums, eyeing his phone. “Who were you talking to? And what the hell have you done to that phone?”

  
Peter glances at it. “Oh- uh, no one. Gwen,” Obviously a lie, even to his own ears. “And I don’t know.” Peter traces one of (many) cracks on his screen. “Dropped it.”

  
“But- Stark phones are practically indestructible and you’re telling me you completely destroyed the screen because you dropped it?!”

  
“Uh, yeah?” Peter smiles sheepishly.

  
“How far did you drop it?”

  
“Eighty stories?” Peter says, and it sounds like a question.

  
“Jesus Chr- You will be the absolute death of me,” Tony says, rubbing his nose. “I’ll get you a new one, see if I can make the next batch completely drop proof.”

  
“Even from me?”

  
“Even from you. Now get ready for school, okay?”

  
“Okay,” Peter says.

  
“Oh- also, Steve told me to tell you that we’re composing our slightly threatening email to the school today. Only he just said calm, nice email.”

  
“So what you mean is you and Pops are gonna spend three or more hours arguing over how to word this, completely unnecessary, by the way, email. And then Bruce, or Bucky or whoever else is here is going to get sick of you two and write it themselves. Which will go one of two ways.”

  
“Yes,” Tony agrees. “Which two ways?”

  
“Either my teachers are cooperative and nice about it or they get so freaked out by the threats, they give me detention. I, personally, would prefer the former. Which will only happen if Steve, Bruce or Pepper writes this email.”

  
Tony grins. “I’ll do my best not to land you in detention.”

  
“Appreciate it,” Peter says. “Now please remove yourself from my room so I can get ready.”

  
“Okay, okay. Can I take your phone and fix it for you?” Tony holds his hand out expectantly.

  
“Sure,” Peter says.

  
“I’ll transfer everything onto a new one for you. It’ll be ready by the time you are,” Tony says. “And try not to drop this one.”

  
“I’ll do my best,” Peter chuckles. “No promises.”

 

*

  
School sucks, is what Peter thinks at around the same time everyday. He thinks it at three minutes past twelve, just after the bell for his last class before lunch rings. Its also, generally speaking, the time when he normally gets punched/kicked/otherwise physically assaulted.

  
And keeping with tradition, Flash was there, punching Peter in the guts. And shoot, that hurt. Peter’s eyes watered.  
“Are you crying?” Flash crows. “You big baby, you can’t take a punch? You’re fucking crying?”

  
“‘m not,” Peter grunts. “You asth-hole.” He spits blood out of his mouth and winces.

  
“What? What was that, Parker?” Flash gets up in Peter’s face.

  
“Get fe hell out of my fathe,” Peter lisps. In the back of his head, he grimaces, because there is no way he’ll be able to hide this from his fathers (or the Avengers. Or Wade. Or anyone, ever). For some reason, its worse then usual. Usual being a black eye or a split lip that usually clears itself up by the time he’s home.

  
“Excuse me?” Flash asks, grinning his shark-grin. “I don’t think so.”

  
Peter sighs as Flash hits him again. It was getting old quickly.

  
After lying on the (dirty, cold, hard, insert any other similar adjective here) linoleum floor for half an hour or so, Peter finally managed to drag himself into a standing position and then limp to the nurse.

  
“Sweetie?” The nurse, a sweet women in her fifties, looked up. “My, God, what happened? Whats your name?”

  
Peter grimaces. “Peter. Peter Parker. Can I-?”

  
“Of course,” She says. She takes his arm and leads him over to one of the chairs. “Should I call your parent?”

  
“Uh. Yeah, probably,” Peter agrees. Tony would most likely murder him for not mentioning this, but he also thought his nose was maybe broken. Having Tony (or Steve. Hopefully not both.) here would help.

  
“Alright, Hon,” The nurse smiles at him. “I’ll get you a cold pack in a sec.”

  
She starts dabbing antiseptic onto his wounds after calling Tony. Once she’s done, they wait for Tony to arrive in silence. Peter pretends to not notice when she turns to stare at him.

  
“Mr Stark,” She says, jumping up suddenly. Peter looks up too. “He’s just here. I’ve done my best to clean them up.”

  
Peter locks eyes with Tony, who freezes where he is.

  
“Kid,” Tony says. “What the fuck happened to your face?”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beefbeefbeefbeef
> 
> just kidding  
> sort of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like ittt

Tony was really beginning to regret not forcing Peter to answer his questions. After all, it wasn’t every day that one had to pick their son up from school because he has been beaten up so badly that blood was still dripping from his nose. 

 

“Kid, what the  _ fuck  _ happened to your face?” He says, staring at his son (and trying to ignore the developing bruises).  

 

“Sir, if you can try not to curse on school premises-“ the school nurse says, doing the fluttery dance that people do when they aren’t quite sure how to react around him. Tony’s pretty used to it by now. 

 

“Uh, its nothing, Dad,” Peter mumbles, lisping around his split lip. 

 

“Nothing, my ass. C’mon. I’m taking you home, where we’ll have a nice, long discussion about this.”

 

“With everyone?” Peter asks, sullenly. 

 

“With everyone,” Tony confirms. “Might even get Nat to bring her knives along.”

 

“Thats child abuse,” Peter says, grinning. It looks a bit horrifying, since his teeth are red and bloodstained. 

 

“Neither Nat, nor I, will care. We’re going now,” He says. “And there will be no arguments.”

 

So Peter follows him, and Tony was fairly sure Peter would be hanging on to the hem of his blazer if he could. 

 

They drive back to the tower in mostly silence. Apart from Tony’s “If you get blood on my seats, I might punch something. Hopefully you.”

 

And Peter’s “Thats definitely child abuse, Dad,” in response. 

  
  
  


Tony had already called ahead, the Avengers were all seated in the living room on their shared floor by the time he and Peter got up. 

 

“Oh, my God,” Steve breaths, instantly jumping up to fuss around Peter. 

 

“Its nothing,” Peter mutters again, waving Steve away when he prods a particularly painful bruise. 

 

“As you can see, ladies, gentlemen and Gods,” Tony says. “Peter has a couple of issues at school.”

 

“And its fine,” Peter insists. 

 

“Okay, look, man,” Clint says. “I’m pretty shit at telling when things are fine or not, too. But this? This is definitely not fine. This is the opposite of fine.”

 

“We need to talk to your teachers,” Steve says. 

 

“No!” Peter half yells. “No, no, you don’t. Its fine, I’m fine. I’ll be fine by the end of the week.”

 

“Its not a matter of whether or not you’ll heal, Peter,” Tony says. “Its about the people who think its okay to do this to you. I say we get Cap in for a little anti-bullying talk.”

 

“I’m all for shoving arrows up the principal’s ass until he gets the guy to stop,” Clint suggests. 

 

“You will not cause bodily harm to any of the Student Body,” Peter interrupts. “No way.”

 

“We’ll have a stern talk,” Natasha says. “All of us.”

 

“There's no point!” Peter shouts. “There is absolutely no point, okay? Because it won’t stop them, and if anything, it’ll make it worse for me.”

 

“How long has it been going on for?” Steve asks. 

 

“Uh.”

 

“Peter,” Thor says. “You must tell us.”

 

“Fine,” Peter says. “Fine! Its been ever since the guy learnt how to throw punches.”

 

“When was that?” Steve asks. 

 

“Uh,” Peter mumbles the answer. 

 

Curse super-human hearing, because Steve picks it up and repeats it. “Five years?!”

 

“Five years?!” Tony echoes. “What the hell, Peter? Why didn’t you tell us?”

 

“Why didn’t I tell you?! Why do you think?” Peter gestures around. “This. This why I didn’t tell you, because I knew I could handle it and getting everyone involved wouldn’t help at all.”

 

“Thats what bullies want you to think,” Tony says. “You should have told us.”

 

“C’est le vie,” Peter says. “You know now.”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Five years too late.”

 

“Look, I don’t know what else you want. You know about it, you know why I don’t want you to do anything about it. In my eyes, we’re done. You have everything you need to know about it,” Peter stands up. 

 

“And in my eyes, we’re not,” Tony tells him. “And sit back down.”

 

Peter shakes his head. “I have nothing else to tell you,” and he stalks off. 

 

Tony sinks his head into his hands. “For fucks sake.”

 

“We need to talk to his teachers about this,” Steve says. “I won’t sit around and let him get beaten up to within an inch of his life.”

 

“Me neither,” Tony says, “But I don’t know what we can do. He doesn’t want us to do anything.”

 

“Most bullied children,” Bruce begins, “Are under the impression that most adults will tell them to man up, get over it, and won’t do anything to help them. Thats why he hasn’t told you. And he believes that for good reason. For all their talk, teachers and parents rarely do anything to help. He really does believe that he’s handling this. And its true, he’s right when he says that getting the boy in trouble would make it worse for him. No bully likes to be told off.”

 

Tony groans. 

 

“And theres a chance that the teachers will say that there’s no point in sorting it out, since they all leave for college in a few weeks,” Bruce continues. “We will need to talk to Peter about this again.”

 

“Okay,” Steve says. “Then we will.”

 

“You think he’ll let us?” Tony says. “He’s stomped off each time we’ve tried to talk about school with him.”

 

“We can’t let this go unnoticed,” Steve frowns. “We need to sort it out.”

 

“I know that,” Tony exclaims. “But he won’t let us!” He stands up. “I’m going to go break some things.”

  
  
  


Dum-E is quick to roll over to him, wobbling his claw with gusto and almost taking out Tony’s eye in the process. 

 

“Bugger off, you lump of metal,” Tony grumbles. “Find me something to do, okay?”

 

Dum-E whirs and whizzes and beeps excitedly. 

 

Tony can’t really help but grin. “No, seriously. Get me something.”

 

Dum-E rolls off and rummages around in a box (making a bit of a mess) before whizzing back. He’s holding out a lump of deformed metal. 

 

Tony takes it. “Uh. What?”

 

Dum-E picks up a hammer from a work bench. 

 

Tony grins. “Well,” He says. “Thanks.”

  
  
  
  


Peter knew Tony must be feeling apologetic. 

 

Mostly because he didn’t say a word when Peter connected his (new, de-cracked) phone to the bluetooth in Tony’s car. Didn’t say a word when he started playing his own music, even though its a long running joke that Tony  _ hates  _ Peter’s taste in music. And he didn’t say a word when Peter started dancing in the passenger seat (which is something that Tony normally always tells him not to do, lest he crash the car because he was distracted).

 

“Uh,” Peter says, turning down the music. “Dad? Are you.. okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony says shortly. “Why?”

 

“Well, normally you tell me to turn my music off.”

 

“Do I?” Tony asks. “Huh.”

 

“I was just.. are you mad at me?” Peter asks. 

 

“What? No! Why, are you mad at  _ me _ ?”

 

“No!” Peter exclaims. “At least, I don’t think.”

 

“Look, I’m gonna pull up here,” Tony says. “Just so we can have a proper heart to heart without me hitting anything. Or me going into cardiac arrest.”

 

Peter grins. “Okay.”

 

Tony swerves into the parking lot of some chain bakery. There are a couple of people sitting inside the place, sipping coffees and eating treats that look like they’re radioactive. 

 

“So,” Tony says, braking. 

 

“So,” Peter repeats. 

 

“Okay,” Tony says. “I’m not angry, or mad or anything like that. I’m a bit disappointed that you didn’t think to tell us about it, but I’m not mad.”

 

Peter nods. “Okay.”

 

“I want to know why you thought you could handle it,” Tony says. “Can you tell me that?”

 

“Um, well. I just.. I’m Spider-man, right? I deal with fighting and violence constantly. So why shouldn’t I be able to deal with a pathetic high school bully?” Peter explains. “I just didn’t tell you.. because, well, I didn’t want you to think I was weak, or kick me off the team.”

 

Tony stares. “What?”

 

“Uh,” Peter tries to fight down the blush. 

 

“We wouldn’t- Peter, we would never kick you off the team because of something like this! And we don’t think you’re weak, at all. And never will, okay? I just wished you had told us to start with because we would have  _ helped  _ you.”

 

“I didn’t need help,” Peter mumbles. 

 

Tony prods one of the yellowing bruises on his cheek. “Really?”

 

“Yes,” Peter says, stubbornly. “Really.”

 

Tony scoffs. “Look, I get it. I’m just as bad. And all I, all we, wanted was for you to tell us sooner, so we could have provided support. And you might not think you need the help, but if we can, we’ll do everything within our power.”

 

Peter sighs. “I’m not gonna win this one, am I?”

Tony shakes his head. 

 

“Fine,” Peter says. “Okay. I just really wish you wouldn’t bother. I’m not worth it, and I leave high school soon. It doesn’t matter.”

 

Tony stares incredulously at him. “Repeat that?”

 

“Repeat what?”

 

“What you just said.”

 

“Uh,” Peter frowns. “It doesn’t matter?”

 

“No, the bit before it,” Tony says. 

 

“I’m not worth it?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony nods. “That bit. And say it again?”

 

“I’m.. not worth it- Why am I doing this?” Peter asks. 

 

“No reason,” Tony says. “Just wanna know why you think that.”

 

Peter blanks. 

 

“Thought so. I don’t want you to say that anymore, okay? You will always, always be worth it. If I could, I’d give you the moon and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

 

Peter fiddles with his phone. He sort of misses tracing the cracks and scratches. “Okay,” he says quietly. 

 

“Okay? Good,” Tony says, starting up the car again. “Thats enough feely stuff for me. That ought to last me a year. Or three.”

 

Peter giggles. 

 

“Lets go, then. And I won’t tell Steve about this if you don’t, okay? And you know exactly what he’d do if he knew you were putting yourself down like that.”

 

“I know,” Peter says. “I won’t.”

 

“So,” Tony says, conversationally. “Any other life threatening secrets I should know about?”

 

Peter freezes. (Google: How to tell your father that you’re dating a man who gets paid to kill and are planning to run away with him). 

 

“Pete?”

 

Peter jolts, realising he’s been frozen for longer than generally acceptable. “Right. No, sorry. Well, other than the fact that I’m bisexual.”

 

“Thats not life threatening to you,” Tony groans. “Now I have to live with Clint gloating over my head for the rest of my life.”

 

“Wait- you bet on my sexuality?!”

 

“Yep. Clint said you’d come out before you left for college. I said after.”

 

Peter bangs his head against the window. 

  
  
  


**From Peter** we have a date

 

**From Wade** we do? when?

 

**From Peter** one week

 

**From Wade** isnt that a week before you graduate?

 

**From Peter** yeah

 

**From Peter** but i want to do it asap

 

**From Wade** wont stark miss the opportunity to throw a crazy big graduation party?

 

**From Wade** u r his little boy aftr all

 

**From Wade** also i was sort of looking forward to partying 

 

**From Peter** we can have our own party

 

**From Wade** this keeps getting better and better

 

**From Peter** ew

 

**From Peter** i meant ill rent the first and second season of gilmore girls and we can binge them

 

**From Wade** like i said. better and better. 

 

Peter grins down at his phone. Only Wade, he thinks. Only Wade. 

 

**From Peter** gotta go. dinner. come over later? dad and pops have a date 

 

**From Wade** a date?

 

**From Peter** yeah. come over?

 

**From Wade** sure. what time

 

**From Peter** theyre leaving about nine. wont be back till eleven at the earliest and anyway, they might book a hotel or something 

 

**From Wade**  a hotel?

 

**From Peter** please don’t make me think about my parents doing the do

 

**From Wade** ur the only person i know who calls it doing the do ily 

 

**From Peter** love you too. see you soon?

 

**From Wade** see u 

  
  
  


Wade comes at ten. 

 

Thankfully, Jarvis delivers him right up to Peter. Apparently, disembodied AI’s will do anything strawberry cheesecake (which was a bit weird, if you ask Peter, because Jarvis couldn’t even eat it. But he’s past questioning. Living in a tower with a billionaire, two soldiers from the forties, two super-assassins- one of which who has an obsession with 90’s sci-fi movies- and a man who transforms into a giant, green monster kind of makes you immune to anything that the public would clarify as ‘out of the ordinary’. And that doesn’t even begin to cover the fact that they all spend their free time, and some of their not-so-free time, fighting otherworldly  _ things _ .) 

 

Jarvis also promised not to alert Tony of it. As long as Wade didn’t threaten to hurt Peter, then Jarvis was keeping Tony and Steve and the other Avengers in the dark about their relationship. 

 

Wade settles himself on Peter’s bed, sipping from the water cup on Peter’s bedside cabinet. 

 

“You know that that’s been there for three days?” Peter says, crawling onto his bed and on top of Wade. 

 

Wade shrugs and swallows. “I’ve drunk worse. And eaten worse.”

 

Peter frowns. “I don’t want to know. Please don’t describe them all to me.”

 

“Well, this one time I had to eat worm shit-“ Wade starts. 

 

Peter covers his ears. “La la la la la la la.”

 

Wade pulls Peter’s hands away. “It was in the middle of this job-“

 

“If it includes your job,” Peter says, “I definitely do not want to hear about it.”

 

Wade grins. “Fine.”

 

“Thank you,” Peter says. “I really wish you would quit.”

 

“I can’t. Too many enemies,” Wade scoffs. “Not that they’re no match for me.”

 

Peter sighs. “Just quit. Become a sort off Avenger.”

 

“On whose authority?” Wade asks. 

 

“Mine,” Peter says, wrinkling his nose. “I’ll make you an honorary Avenger.”

 

“What would your dad’s and adoptive rest-of-family say about that?”

 

“Screw what they think,” Peter frowns. “You’re my boyfriend, I can invite you to fight our weird, alien enemies with us.”

 

Wade laughs. 

 

They both freeze, however, when Natasha calls “Peter?”

 

“Um,” Peter says. 

 

Natasha knocks on Peter’s door. “Can I come in?”

 

Peter stands and flails his arms around a bit. “Ah— Uh— Yeah!”

 

Wade stares at Peter. “What the fuck?” He mouths. 

 

Natasha opens the bedroom door. 

 

She, too, freezes. Her eyes dart from Wade to Pete and back again until her eyebrows raise, seemingly of their own accord. 

 

“I’m guessing you don’t want me to mention this to Steve and Tony?” She asks. “And Wade Wilson?” She says to Peter, “Really?”

 

“Yes, really,” Peter says, defensively. 

 

Natasha glances at Wade again. “Do I need to give him a shovel talk?”

 

“No,” Peter says. “I shove him out my window daily.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Wade nods. “Yep. The rotting bananas in the dumpster that I land in and I have gotten really close these last couple of months.”

 

“Couple of months? How long has this been going on?” Natasha asks. 

 

“Uh,” Peter says. “Five-ish months?”

 

“Five-“ Natasha starts. “Alright,” she says. “Okay. How did you keep it from us?”

 

“Like I said. I push him out the window, and I’ve bribed Jarvis with cheesecake,” Peter says. 

 

“Cheesecake?” Natasha asks, curiously. “But he can’t eat it.”

 

Peter shrugs. “Who am I to question what he likes and doesn’t like? You’d be better off asking Dad.”

 

Natasha considers this. “True. Anyway, the team and I were gonna order chinese. Wanna join?”

 

Peter glances at Wade. “What about Wade?”

 

“What about him?” Natasha says. “He’s your boyfriend. He can come if you want.”

 

“He’s right here,” Wade mutters. “And, ma’am, how’d you know we were dating?”

 

“I’ve met all three of Peter’s friends. He doesn’t sit that close to any of them,” Natasha says. 

 

“Excuse me- all three?” Peter jabs a finger at Natasha. “I’ll have you know I have more friends than that.”

 

Natasha mimes biting his finger off. “Name them and I’ll believe you.”

 

Peter sighs. “Fine. Is anyone going to ask about, you know-“ he gestures to the bruise on his cheekbone. 

 

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Wade says, firmly. 

 

“Huh,” Natasha says. “Threatening the parents at the first meeting. I like you.”

 

“Thank you, ma’am,” Wade say, grinning. 

 

“Will any of them tell Dad and Pops?” Peter asks. He almost winces at how  _ desperate  _ his voice sounds. 

 

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Natasha says, grinning at Wade when she repeats his words. 

 

“Okay then,” Peter says. “We’ll be down in five minutes.”

 

Natasha nods. “Oh- and don’t make too much noise, okay?”

 

Peter doesn’t stop blushing until she’s in the elevator. 

  
  
  


“The Avengers really know how to do takeout,” Wade says, wiping at a smudge of hoisin sauce that somehow found its way onto his nose. 

 

“Yeah,” Peter says. “Yeah.”

 

“You okay?” Wade asks. 

 

“Oh? Mhm. Just wasn’t expecting.. that.”

 

The team (minus Tony and Steve- obviously, because they were busy fucking each others brains out in a five star hotel somewhere) had been, over all, pretty accepting of their relationship. Which was something Peter had not anticipated. In fact, Clint had accepted Wade into the family almost instantly, after he had pelted a piece of Aromatic duck at Wade’s forehead and Wade had responded by chucking sweet ‘n’ sour chicken at Clint’s. Clint had grinned while wiping off the sticky, red sauce from his forehead and proceeded to congratulate Wade on his aim, as if saying ‘Huh. Good enough for me.’

 

Natasha, having already found out (if only five minutes prior) hadn’t actually said anything. She had just served Wade extra egg-fried rice. 

 

Bruce had smiled and made small talk, because Bruce was really the only one on the team good at it. Wade described the whole ‘Weapon-X’ biz to him, which was something he had only told Peter. He’d also invited Wade to play chess afterwards, and he hadn’t even gotten angry and green when Wade had lost and thrown a knight at Bruce’s head. (Now they had an abstract coat hook in the living room).

 

So Peter counted it as a success. But that didn’t make it any better, because now he was panicking about whether they’d tell Tony and Steve. 

 

“Expecting what?” Wade asks, interrupting Peter’s mental recount of the evening. 

 

“You trying to decapitate a man with board game pieces?” Peter suggests. “Clint using you for target practise? When they all realised how sore of a loser you are?”

 

Wade grins. “I wasn’t expecting it either. But hey, three down, two to go.”

 

“Yeah, the worst, most over-protective two to go. Before we tell them, I’d recommend trying to remove any incriminating evidence of you from anywhere. Even though that won’t stop Tony, it might slow him down enough that we can talk to him,” Peter says. 

 

“Incriminating evidence?” Wade waggles his eyebrows. 

 

“No!” Peter exclaims, “No, I meant like, you know, criminal records or particularly bad jobs.” He sounds embarrassingly reluctant when he says ‘jobs’, but he has never been comfortable discussing anything relevant to Wade’s day job (of course, now that he knows Wade has eaten  _ worms _ while doing it, he’d even more grossed out and disturbed).

 

“Well, there’s probably a mix of both,” Wade muses, “Before all, you know,” He gestures to the burns that have mutated his skin. “I was quite good looking, if I do say so myself.”

 

“You have a sex tape that is possibly available for public consumption?” Peter asks, nine parts horrified and one part intrigued (you would be too. Don’t look at him like that. If you had just found out that your partner might have a sex tape, you’d want to know the who’s, when’s and why’s too.)

 

“What?” Wade is laughing. “Why? You interested?”

 

“Try jealous,” Peter says, doing his best not to cross his arms and pout like a three year old.

 

“Jealous?” Wade hums. “Okay, then. I’ll check and make sure you won’t accidentally stumble on it.”

 

“So you do have one?” Peter asks.

 

“No,” Wad grins. “I’m teasing you.”

 

Peter really does make a little ‘hmph’ noise (although he hasn’t crossed his arms. Yet.) “Not funny. Whats the time?”

 

“No idea.”

 

“Jarvis?” Peter prompts. 

 

“Good evening, young sir,” Jarvis says. “It’s currently twenty one minutes past midnight. Sir and Captain Rogers will be out all night. Mr Wilson is welcome to stay.”

 

Peter might be imagining it, but there’s a little bit of amusement in Jarvis’ voice when he tells them that Tony and Steve will be out all night. Then he thinks of Tony, and it doesn’t seem so impossible. 

 

“Alright, thanks Jarvis,” Peter turns to Wade. “Wanna stay?”

 

Wade grins and nods. “Anything to avoid being thrown out of a window on the ninety-sixth floor.”

  
  
  


Wade, as it turns out, is quite possibly the world's  _ worst  _ sleepover guest. He can’t seem to stop talking. Like, at all. 

 

Its three thirty in the morning and they’ve discussed the likelihood of an early death (quite likely, for both them. What with their hobbies. And Wade’s habit of being pushed off of high platforms). Wade had had impromptu cactus-spike-removal surgery four times after accidentally prodding Peter’s succulent collection too hard. Wade had gotten up to get drinks and snacks twice and Peter was thoroughly exhausted. 

 

Wade wasn’t because he was rambling on about how he wished “he knew how to judo-flip someone but I can’t learn because no one is willing to get judo-flipped by me.” Apparently, he has a lot to say about it. 

 

“Look,” Peter interrupts while he’s explaining reason number nine why someone may not want to be judo-flipped by him, “Wade. Will you please,  _ please _ go to sleep?”

 

Wade is quiet for all of nine minutes. In this time, Peter has managed to drift to the little gap between asleep and awake. 

 

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” Wade says, bolting upright. “But do you think caterpillars have feelings?”

 

Peter groans and considers whether knocking himself out would be worth it to get his eight hours. 

  
  
  


Wade must have fallen silent long enough for Peter to fall asleep, because when he wakes up curled around Wade, he’s not as grumpy as he could have (and very nearly would have) been. 

 

Wade wakes up when Peter wriggles around a bit. “Hm. Stop moving,” he slurs, and he sounds more well rested than Peter feels. 

 

“No, you asshole. What time is it?” Peter grumbles. He clicks his phone on, wincing through the brightness and hurries to turn it down. When his eyes  _ aren’t  _ screaming for mercy, he sits up. “Crap. Its midday.”

 

“So?” Wade mumbles.

 

“So, I wouldn’t be surprised if my parents are back. And I don’t know if they’ve been in to check on me!”

Wade mumbles. “So, what? Everyone else knows.”

“Yeah, and everyone else aren’t going to murder you in cold blood!” Peter insists. “Come on, get  _ up. _ ”

Wade grunts and groans but he sits up. “Look, its fine. They might already know.”

They’re so busy arguing, that neither notice nor process the padding footsteps coming towards Peter’s bedroom door. Or the knock. Or the door opening. 

“ _ Peter _ ?!”

“There we are then,” Wade says, flopping back down on the pillows.  

Peter flushes red. “Morning, Dad.”

“Why- Who- Why is Deadpool in your bed?” Tony asks. 

“Wade,” Peter corrects. “And because, well, because we’re together.”

Tony splutters. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

“What!?” Peter says, defensively. 

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Tony grumbles. “Get up. The two of you. Meet us downstairs in five minutes because we  _ are _ talking about this.”

Tony slams the door. 

“Could have gone better,” Peter says tersely. “Come on. We’d better do as he says.”

Wade nods. “Okay.”

“By the way,” Peter says before he opens his door. “You are the  _ worst  _ at sleepovers.”

  
  
  


Peter doesn’t realise it, but he goes downstairs wearing one of Wade’s hoodies (the sap had brought Peter a Deadpool one. Because apparently people sold them.) Well, he does realise it, but a bit too late, because he catches Tony looking at it and then drag his hands over his eyes. 

Steve is sitting on the sofa next to him, his hands wrapped around a mug of tea. He smiles when Peter walks in, and doesn’t stop when he realises that Peter is holding Wade’s hand. 

“Good morning, Peter,” Steve says. “Mr. Wilson.”

“Call me Wade,” Wade says, sounding utterly unbothered by the whole thing. 

Steve nods. “Alright. Thank you.”

Tony doesn’t say anything. He just gets up and dumps approximately half a bottle of rum in his coffee and ignores Steve’s disappointed stares. 

“Well, then,” Steve says. “So, you two are.. together?” When Peter nods, he continues. “How long?”

“Five months,” Peter and Wade chorus (which was totally unplanned and Wade can’t help but snicker under his breath).  

“And you’re only telling us now?” Tony asks. 

Peter nods. “Yeah. The others only found out last night and I was going to tell you first but-“

“Peter,” Tony cuts him off. “Might I remind you exactly who Deadpool is?”

“Call him Wade, Dad,” Peter says. “And, no, you don’t need to.”

Tony ignores him anyway, and orders Jarvis to pull up every single news article involving Wade and/or Deadpool. 

“Look at this,” Tony says. “I hope you aren’t on his hit list , Peter,” Tony scrolls through the list of all the people Wade/Deadpool have killed. Steve isn’t saying anything. He just looks apologetic and out of place and thoroughly ignores Peter’s semi-desperate stare. 

“Oh man,” Tony says and he pulls up security footage of the fire. “Look. He’s dangerous, Peter.”

Wade is sitting straight up, stock still. He doesn’t even notice when Peter squeezes his hand hard enough to break a bone. His eyes have sort of glazed over and Peter hates it. 

“Turn it off, Dad,” he mutters.

Tony either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care, because he keeps pulling up footage of everything that has happened to Wade, ever and Peter doesn’t even know where he got it from. 

When they get to the photos and videos from time where Francis (the only name Peter knew him by, and also the only one Wade would call him) was trying to ‘unlock’ Wade’s mutation, he had stood up and left. 

“What the hell, Dad?!” Peter yells. In all honesty, he had had no desire to watch any of it, and Wade obviously hadn’t either. “What the hell!?”

“Peter-“ Tony starts. 

“No,” Peter says firmly. “No. Absolutely not. I should have- You can’t just go around showing my boyfriend videos from, like, the worst time of his life. Would you like it if I started playing stuff from Afghanistan?” Okay, yeah. That was a low blow. “You wouldn’t, would you? So what makes you think Wade would want to see it too? What makes you think  _ I  _ would want to see it?”

“Peter-“ Steve tries. 

“No! I cannot believe that,” Peter says. “You didn’t do anything to stop, or help,” He tells Steve. “I can’t- why couldn’t you just let me have this? And let me be happy and accepting and trust my judgement on this one thing? Because, right now, Wade is a better man then either of you, I’m sure. And I don’t care what you say, until you’ve apologised to both of us, I’m not speaking to either of you.” He pulls out his phone and bends it till it splinters in half. Shards of glass fly into Peter’s face and one of them lodges its into his cheek. Which hurts. 

“Peter!” Steve jumps up but falters when Peter takes a step back. 

“Don’t. Don’t touch me,” he says, before stalking off to his room. 

  
  
  
  


Wade is in there, thankfully. With Natasha, which Peter wasn’t expecting. 

“If you’re here to yell at me,” Peter says. “I don’t want to hear it.” It sort of hurts, talking. Because apparently, Stark Industries makes their phones out of the most painful glass. 

“I’m not-“ Natasha says, looking up from his bed. “What the fuck? Did Tony or Steve do that?”

Peter touches the cut. His finger comes away slick with blood. “No. I did, when I broke my phone. Anyway. Wade?”

The lump in Peter’s bed wiggles. 

“Are you okay?” Peter asks. “Do you want to go?”

“Go where?” Wade sounds muffled. 

“Go,” Peter says, putting emphasis on it and praying Wade will catch it. 

He does, apparently, because he pokes his head out from the covers and frowns. “You’re sure?”

“Never been surer,” Peter says, already rummaging around for his backpack. The pre-packed one, with as much cash as he dared and a week’s worth of underwear and t-shirts. “Sorry, Nat.” He spares a glance at her, and does a double take when he realises that she’s practically shaking. “Um. Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine,” Natasha says. “About to beat up the leader of my team and supplier of my teams tech, but fine.”

“Wha- Did Wade tell you?” Peter asks. 

“I did,” Wade says, and he comes to latch onto Peter’s arm. Peter pretends not to notice the tear tracks, but can’t help himself from wiping away some of the fresher ones. 

“Where are you going?” Natasha asks. 

“Can’t tell you,” Peter says shortly. “I’ll text you.” He shoulders his backpack and squeezes Wade’s hand. 

“But you broke your phone,” Natasha says, picking up the half Peter had discarded on his desk. “I thought these things were bullet proof, drop proof and Hulk proof.”

“Apparently not Spider-man proof. Or Peter proof,” Peter says. “I’ll get a burner.”

Natasha nods. “Okay. I’m gonna go see if Stark and Rogers are Natasha proof,” she says, slinking out of the door. 

“Oh, wait,” Peter says, and he doesn’t hesitate to hug her. “Put some strawberry cheesecake in front of one of Jarvis’ cameras for me?”

Natasha, to her credit, doesn’t hesitate to agree. “Sure thing. Be safe, маленький паук.”

Even if Peter doesn’t understand it, he stills smiles. Hell, she could have called him something incredibly offensive and he would still smile. 

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

  
  
  
  


He and Wade are on a bus out of New York before the sun starts to set. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment what you thought! and yes, the first thousand words are more focused on tony, before i realised that, in actuality, i prefer writing peter. so im writing peter for now. as the story progresses, of course, we might see more povs.
> 
> also iLOVE natasha. she seems to me like she and wade would be besties, because theyve both had shitty, torture-esque things happen. also nat and peter? yes PLS.
> 
> anyway, as always, comment your thoughts. next chapter up soon! although probably not as soon as this one.  
> take care, friends.
> 
> have we discussed a name yet? i call my instagram followers 'gang' a lot. should i bring that along to here?
> 
> also, the spacing changed. i knowwwwww. its because i write everything on google docs, and copy and paste over to here. and i write on google docs using my phone, my pc and my laptop. so sometimes i copy and paste using my phone, and other times with my laptop and each time the spacing changes. sorry! 
> 
> be careful, gang, i love you xo


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluff (and a lot of it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like!

 

It takes a while for them to set up shop. 

 

At least, it takes Peter a while to set up shop. Because Wade is too busy running around in the dark, and ducking in and out of rooms. And generally getting in the goddamn way.  

 

“Wade, I swear to whichever God is listening, that if you don’t stop running around, I will put my fist through your eye,” Peter snaps, folding all three of his shirts with meticulous precision. 

 

Wade giggles. “Sorry. This place is so cool!”

 

Any trace of how Wade had been feeling before they left had vanished. In its place was the Wade Peter was used to. The childish, slightly lazy one who would probably walk in front of a car if Peter wasn’t there. Wasn’t there holding onto his collar. 

 

“We need to go shopping tomorrow,” Peter says, kind of regretting not bringing a car. 

 

“Okay,” Wade says. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.”

 

“As long as you don’t make as much noise as last night,” Peter grumbles. “If you do, I’m sleeping on the couch.”

 

He eyes the couch doubtfully, though, because it looks a bit too lumpy for his liking. 

 

“I’ll be quiet,” Wade promises. 

  
  
  
  


He is, actually, because Peter wakes up well rested and warm. The mid-morning sun makes patches on their bed (which is really just an old-ish mattress that came with the place and a blanket). There’s also a small, too-thin, tabby cat curled into a ball at Peter’s feet. 

 

“Wade,” he whispers. “Wade, wake up.”

 

Wade stirs. “Hm? What?”

 

“Look, we have a pet,” Peter says, grinning. 

 

“A what?”

 

“There’s a cat. They’re mine now.”

 

“And we don’t know what gender said cat is?” Wade asks. 

 

“No. And I’m not disrespecting them so we’ll go to the vets later and find out.”

 

Wade chuckles. “You’re like, the most considerate person I’ve ever met.”

 

Peter slides out of bed, yawning. “Come on. Get up, we need to get some food.”

 

Wade grunts and makes no effort to move. 

 

“Five minutes, then,” Peter says, pulling off his t-shirt and changing into a clean one (he deliberately ignores Wade’s appreciative wolf whistle).

  
  
  


He disturbs the cat, who follows him downstairs. Peter sets up a saucer of water for the cat, and makes a fuss of their head. Strands of fur come off in his hand. 

 

Peter gets himself water, too, and chugs it while leaning on the sink. He makes a mental note to clean the place, because its a bit too grimy.

 

He tears a page out of his notebook and writes a list.

 

_ Bread _

_ Milk _

_ Cereal _

_ Fruit _

_ Pain meds _

_ Pillows _

_ Mattress _

_ Blankets _

_ Pasta _

_ Rice _

_ Pasta sauce _

_ Cheese _

_ Phone _

_ Seeds  _

_ Gardening stuff _

_ Juice _

_ Plates _

_ Silverware _

_ Mugs _

_ Coffee maker _

_ Kettle _

_ Saucepans _

_!!CLOTHES!! _

_ Coffee grounds _

_ Sugar _

 

Wade emerges and snatches the pen out of Peters hand before scribbling ‘Nutella’ onto the list. Peter doesn’t protest, just snatches the pen back.

 

_ Nutella _

_ Chips _

_ Cat food _

_ Cat bowls _

_ VETS!!!! _

_ Shower gel _

_ Shampoo _

 

He hands it to Wade. “Want anything else?”

 

Wade scans it quickly, before shaking his head. “Sounds good. When are we going? And we’re keeping the cat?”

 

Peter shrugs. “Ten minutes? I’ll get some money and bags then we’ll go. And we’re keeping the cat.”

 

Wade grins. “Okay. Can we get a TV?”

 

Peter sighs. “See how much they are?”

 

“Fine,” Wade says. “Is that my t-shirt?”

 

Peter glances down at his chest. “Uh.. No?” There’s gingery-brown cat fur all over Wade’s shirt.

 

Wade eyes him suspiciously. “Hey, guess what I found last night?”

 

“What?” Peter asks.

 

“Bikes!”

 

“Bikes?” Peter repeats slowly.

 

“Yeah! With little baskets and bells and everything.”

 

“Do they work?”

 

“Wanna find out?” Wade asks, grinning.

 

Peter grins too, swings his backpack onto his shoulder and nods. “We don’t have helmets or anything, though.”

 

“So?” Wade says, “Since when do we do anything thats safe?”

 

“True,” Peter says. He picks up the cat gently. “What should we name them?”

 

Wade glances at the cat. “Um.. Gilbert?”

 

Peter looks unimpressed.

 

“Okaay. Maybe not then?”

 

Peter smiles. “Come on, show me these bikes.”

  
  
  
  


Wade takes the hot pink one. Peter gently puts the cat into the basket of the blue one he has, and wheels it till they’re on flatter road. Wade rides his all the way, whooping whenever he almost flies off of it. 

 

Peter rides his bike a lot slower than Wade (who zooms ahead and then makes a u-turn to ride back to Peter. And he does it again, and again, and again until even Peter is dizzy).

 

They get into town, and Wade begs to carry the cat. So Peter lets him, and also has to steer him because Wade is distracted by petting and kissing their head.

 

They discover that the town is really just a street of shops that look like they could fall apart if you even looked at them too hard. But there’s a bookstore, a music shop, a family owned coffee shop, a florists, a butchers and a small supermarket. They affectionately name it the ‘not-so-super market’, because its actually quite pathetic. There is also a little veterinary building.

 

“We should go there, first,” Peter says, pointing at it. 

 

Wade nods. “Yeah.”

 

There’s an elderly women sitting at the desk when they enter, and she looks up when the bell jingles.

 

“Good morning! Oh, who’s this?” She coos when her eyes land on the cat still in Wade’s asks. To her credit, and Wade’s relief, she doesn’t even look mildly disgusted when she sees Wade’s skin.

 

“Well,” Peter says, “We don’t know. They were sleeping on our bed this morning.”

 

She also doesn’t look weirded out when Peter so casually outs them. She just takes the cat from Wade. “Well, if you want to leave him with us for a while, we’ll run some tests and everything to make sure he’s safe and healthy.”

 

“He’s a he?” Wade says.

 

“That’d be great, thanks,” Peter smiles. “How much?”

 

“I’m afraid it depends how much is wrong, dearie,” the women says. “Does he have a name?”

 

Wade looks at Peter expectantly. “He already said no to ‘Gilbert’, so I have no idea.”

 

“Uh-” Peter grins. “Isaac Mewton?”

 

“Of course,” Wade says, “Of course it has to be something science related with you.”

 

“Well, then, Isaac Mewton,” The women says. “Do you have a number we can call when we’re done?”

 

Peter shakes his head. “We just moved here. We’ll come by again in a couple of hours?”

 

“Perfect,” she says, “Oh, and I’m Marisa.”

 

“Peter,” Peter says, smiling. “This is Wade. Thank you!”

 

They leave Isaac Mewton in the vets and try to find a place to dump their bikes.

 

Instead, they end up dumping them against the wall of the Not-so-super market and heading in. Its even more underwhelming inside.

 

Once again, there are elderly people milling around inside, chatting and shopping and walking really, really slowly. More then one comes over to Peter, introduces themselves and tries to pinch his cheeks (which Wade finds utterly hilarious). But eventually, they get pretty much everything on Peter’s list and some more.

 

~~_ Bread _ ~~

~~_ Milk _ ~~

~~_ Cereal _ ~~

~~_ Fruit _ ~~

~~_ Pain meds _ ~~

_ Pillows _

_ Mattress _

_ Blankets _

~~_ Pasta _ ~~

~~_ Rice _ ~~

~~_ Pasta sauce _ ~~

~~_ Cheese _ ~~

~~_ Phone _ ~~

~~_ Seeds  _ ~~

_ Gardening stuff _

~~_ Juice _ ~~

~~_ Plates _ ~~

~~_ Silverware _ ~~

~~_ Mugs _ ~~

_ Coffee maker _

~~_ Kettle _ ~~

_ Saucepans _

_!!CLOTHES!! _

~~_ Coffee grounds _ ~~

~~_ Sugar _ ~~

~~_ Nutella _ ~~

~~_ Chips _ ~~

~~_ Cat food _ ~~

~~_ Cat bowls _ ~~

~~_ VETS!!!! _ ~~

~~_ Shower gel _ ~~

~~_ Shampoo _ ~~

 

The cashier at the counter, a man with white, wispy hair, stops them and says, “Peter and Wade, huh? Welcome to the village.”

 

Peter blushes. Wade whispers “Word sure travels fast here,” in his ear.

 

“Thank you, Mister,” Peter says, taking the paper bags that he and Wade packed up. 

 

Wade drags Peter into the music shop next, where they find a vinyl record player thats been reduced to half price, and some cheap-ish records. Wade picks out three (The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust by David Bowie, Dark Side of the Moon by Pink Floyd and The Beatles by The Beatles). And they buy them, mostly because Wade does so without even asking Peter. 

 

They head to the florists next, where Peter finds seeds and bulbs. He buys maybe too many - carrots, peas, lettuce, cucumber, zucchini, potato and various flowers. Wade picked all the flowers, and he only picked red ones. He says that if they had blue flowers, he’d have picked them too. Which makes Peter blush and giggle and smile. Peter also buys a watering can and ten plant pots, of varying size.

 

They window shop in the book shop, mostly because it’s shut and also because they don’t have enough hands for all the things they’ve brought. 

 

Wade forces Peter into the coffee shop, after propping their bikes on the outside wall with the bags. Peter digs through one for the brick phone he brought.

 

They sit at a little table in the back. Wade leads Peter to it, because Peter’s glasses steam up as soon as he steps foot inside. Wade laughs every time he ‘accidentally’ leads Peter into a table.

 

A blind woman comes up to their table then, “Drinks?” she says.

 

Wade grins. Peter slaps him (because he can see the gears turning in Wade’s head and it doesn’t have a particularly pleasant outcome). “Yes, please,” Peter says, before Wade can. “Two coffees.”

 

“Coming up,” she says, shuffling off.

 

Wade turns to Peter.

 

“No,” Peter says. “Absolutely not.”

 

“But Petey,” Wade whines.

 

“No.”

 

“But-”

 

“No.”

 

Wade sighs. “Didn’t even know what I was gonna do.”

 

“I know you, Wade. You would have tripped her up or something,” Peter says. He starts pressing buttons on his phone. 

 

“I wouldn’t!” Wade sounds genuinely horrified. “How could you think I’d do such a thing?”

 

Peter just raises his eyebrows. 

 

“Okay,” Wade says after a pause. “Maybe-only maybe! I’d do something like that.”

 

“Sure,” Peter says before holding the new phone up to his ear. 

 

“Who?” Wade mouths at him. 

 

“Nat,” Peter whispers back. “-Oh, hey, Natasha! Told you I’d get a phone.”

 

“Speaker,” Wade hisses. Peter holds up a finger. 

 

“Are you alone?” … “Yeah? Okay, I’m putting you on speaker.”

 

“Hey, Romanoff,” Wade says as soon as the phone is away from Peter’s ear. 

 

“Wilson,” Natasha says. “How are you two?”

 

“Good, Nat,” Peter says, grinning at Wade. “Real good. We have a cat and everything.”

 

“That we do. Peter named him Isaac Mewton.”

 

“You’re fucking kidding,” Natasha says and they can hear her sarcasm even through the terrible phone speaker. 

 

“Nope,” Peter says. “He’s at the vets right now.”

 

“Yeah, make sure he isn’t infected by anything. That’d be a downer,” Natasha says. 

 

“Was that a gravity pun?” Wade asks. 

 

“You tell me,” Natasha says. “Am I allowed to know where you two have disappeared off to, by the way?”

 

“I’ll text you the address later,” Peter says. “Has Tony and Steve noticed?”

 

If Natasha thought it odd or weird that they were ‘Tony and Steve’, not ‘Dad and Pops’ she didn’t comment. “Not yet. Probably soon though. I’ll keep them off your scent as long as possible.”

 

“You,” Wade says, pointing the plastic spoon he picked up from (actually, where  _ did  _ he get it from?) somewhere at the phone. “Are a godsend. An actual, literal godsend.”

 

“I know,” Natasha says. Peter can hear her smug smile. 

 

“Where’d you get the spoon from?” He asks Wade. “And yeah, you are. Thanks, Nat,” Peter says. 

 

“It was on the table with the paper towels and stuff,” Wade points it out. “Ooh-! Coffee!”

 

Their waitress is back, precariously holding a tray with two mugs on. “Who’re you boys talkin’ to, then? Your parents?”

 

“I hope not,” Wade says. “That’d be a bit weird.”

 

“Talking to a friend,” Peter says, grinning when Natasha starts laughing at, presumably, Wade. 

 

“Huh,” the waitress says. “I’m Al. Blind Al.”

 

Peter kicks Wade before he can say anything. “Nice to meet you, I’m Peter. This is Wade.”

 

“Yep, I’m Wade.”

 

“I have to go,” Natasha says. “There’s a situation. It’ll be on the news later.”

 

“We don’t have a TV,” Peter says. 

 

“Newspapers, then. It’ll be everywhere. We could use your help.”

 

“That defeats the purpose of running away,” Peter says. “Good luck. Be careful.”

 

“I’m always careful,” Natasha says. “Bye, маленький паук, and the asshole.”

 

“Who’s who?” Wade asks before she can hang up. 

 

“You’re the asshole,” she says and the phone clicks. Peter snickers at Wade’s face. 

 

“Are you two together?” Blind Al asks, still holding the tray. 

 

“Why, yes,” Wade says. “Yes, we are.”

 

“Well, best of luck to both of you,” Al says, smiling. “See, my own lady died a few years back. Missin’ her every day. Keep yourselves safe, okay?”

 

Peter smiles. “Thank you. Here, do you have a phone? Take my number.”

 

“I do,” Al says. “Why don’t you take mine?”

 

Peter smiles. “Of course.” He takes Al’s phone when she offers it to him and types in the number of his new phone. “Thank you,” he hands it back. Al smiles. 

 

“Thank  _ you _ ,” she says. “Now, you boys take care, okay? Been a while since we have young ones up around here.”

 

Wade snorts and covers it with a mouthful of coffee. 

 

Peter turns to him once she’s gone. “Wade!”

 

“What?”

 

“I know what you’re thinking! Stop thinking it!”

 

“I’m not thinking anything,” Wade says defensively. 

 

“Oh, sure you aren’t. You’re thinking about how funny it’d be to push her over right now,” Peter stares at him. “Aren’t you?”

 

“Well, maybe a little,” Wade says. “Oh, come on, if would be a little bit funny!” He almost yells when Peter glares at him. “Also, you kicked me. Bet its gonna bruise.”

 

“You would have said something rude and disrespectful,” Peter tells him. 

 

“How do you know?”

 

“How many times to I have to say this?” Peter says. “Its because I know you.”

 

Wade hums. “This is good coffee.”

 

Peter smiles. “Changing the subject, huh? But you’re right. It is.”

 

“We should make it.”

 

“Make coffee that we don’t own? Sounds fun.”

 

Wade grins. “You know what I mean. Get this coffee and make it. So we can have fabulous coffee all day, every day.”

 

Peter laughs. “Sure, Wade. We’ll just find out exactly what brand of coffee they serve here, and try to brew it the exact same way they brew it here.”

 

“Doesn’t sound too hard,” Wade shrugs. 

 

*

 

Its a lot, lot harder then Wade expects, because apparently, family owned coffee shops import their coffee from God knows where. Its not the crappy ground coffee (that can really only be described as goop) that they buy from the not-so-super market. But Peter puts up with it. He drinks the crappy goop coffee and Wade spends too much money on take away cups. 

 

Isaac Mewton has settled in, too. Peter brought him a bed and food and water bowls. But he doesn’t use them, instead preferring to like Wade’s plates clean and sleeping on Peter’s stomach. Which isn’t as bad as he thought, because I. Mewton has attempted to kick either of them out of bed yet. 

 

So Peter wakes up with the sunrise every day, feeds Isaac Mewton, feeds himself and feeds Wade. Then he goes out to feed the chickens because, oh yeah, they have chickens now. He waters his plants (there are little pea shoots poking out already) and then he sits at the kitchen table and reads the newspaper till Wade comes down. 

 

Its nice, he thinks. Different. Very, very different. But nice. 

 

Natasha calls every day, and each time she asks “So what are you trying to prove by this?”

 

Peter doesn’t know how to answer, so he says, “I just want to live.”

 

Blind Al’s been over three times this week. She brings a different flavour of herbal tea each time, and her knitting. She’s teaching Peter, and they sit on the lumpy couch and drink herbal tea and knit rainbow scarves. Its refreshing. Peter locks Wade out each time, because Wade would take any opportunity to trip her up. But Wade has his dogs (not that they have any idea where from. He just accumulated a collie and two labradors one day, and hasn’t let them go since). 

 

He listens to David Bowie, or The Beatles, every evening for an hour, and sometimes Wade makes him get up and dance. 

 

So, yeah. Its a good life. Its free, and Tony hasn’t made any effort to contact them yet. Which might be down to Natasha. 

 

Nothing goes wrong, he has routines, and life is, well. Life is good. 

 

(And Peter is glad, because living so off-grid means that no one can get on his back about bullies, and schoolwork and no one cares if he ran away before school was over and no one really cares if he ran away at all.)

 

*

 

“Petey?” Wade yells, disturbing Isaac Mewton (who was sleeping on the sofa beside him). 

 

“Hm?” Peter asks, smudging black grease on his cheek as he brushes hair out of his face. 

 

“What were you doing?” Wade asks. 

 

“Oh- changing my bike chain,” Peter says. “What do you need?”

 

“I have a job.”

 

“Specifics?” Peter says, fiddling with the record player. 

 

“Uh, a stabby one?”

 

“A stabby one?” Peter repeats. 

 

Wade nods. “Yeah.”

 

“Okay,” Peter says carefully. “Okay. Just.. make it quick. And clean. And be careful, okay?”

 

“Always am,” Wade says. “I have to go tomorrow.”

 

Peter nods. “Okay. When will you be back?”

 

“Three days, tops.”

 

They listen to Pink Floyd, and Peter falls asleep on the sofa. 

  
  


Wade is already gone when he wakes up, still on the sofa. Peter feeds Isaac Mewton, and Wade’s dogs and he has Greek yogurt for breakfast. 

 

He calls Natasha after half an hour of David Bowie and playing chess with himself (tip: you cannot play chess with yourself. You know all the moves before you play them.)

 

“Hey, Peter.”

 

“Hey. You busy?”

 

“Nope,” Natasha says. “Whats up?”

 

“Wade has a job. I’m boooooored,” he whines. 

 

“You’re childish, thats what you are,” Natasha says, but she’s laughing. 

 

“Hm. We have chickens, now,” He says. “And a cat, and dogs.”

 

“Soon you’ll have a zoo,” she tells him. “Names?”

 

“You know Isaac Mewton. Wade named his dogs after Mr Men characters.”

 

“Mr Men?”

 

“Yep. We have Mr Tickle, because he has a really long tail. The girl, she’s a golden lab, we called her Little Miss Sunshine. And the collie is Mr Bump. No idea why. I think its because Wade always trips over him, but he keeps denying it.”

 

“Mr Bump, Little Miss Sunshine and Mr Tickle,” Natasha repeats. 

 

“And Isaac Mewton!” Peter adds. 

 

“Right. When can I meet them?”

 

“You should come tomorrow. Its a long-ish drive, but Blind Al’s coming as well. You can meet her!”

 

Peter imagines Nat is smiling. “Sure. I’ll see if any aliens feel like attacking. Want me to bring Clint, Tony or Steve? Anyone?”

 

“Clint, maybe. Bruce, if you want. He’d probably love it. Tony, and Steve, um. Let me talk to them first, okay? Have they asked about me?”

 

“Nope,” Natasha says. “I think they know I know where you’ve gone but they haven’t asked. If Tony really wanted, he’d track you down and he’d already be there.”

 

“So they don’t care?” Peter says, his voice smaller then expected. 

 

“I think they’re respecting you. Letting you come to them, instead. I’ve yelled at them for showing the clips already, and I threatened to scrape Steve’s eye out with a scalpel for not stopping Tony. And I’m fairly sure that Bruce and Clint know, because Clint won’t talk to Tony except for missions. Bruce actually locked himself in the Hulk-cage for an hour after he found out.”

 

“Bruce went in there willingly?” Peter asks, disbelievingly. 

 

“Yep. I did go to check he was okay, but he didn’t come down for dinner,” Natasha says. 

 

“Wow,” Peter says. “Do you think I should.. come home?”

 

“No,” she says, quickly. “If you’re happy, and safe, then stay where you are. You needed this, Peter. As long as you keep in touch with me, I’ll keep them away for as long as I can.”

 

“Thank you,” Peter says. “Thank you, Nat. How’s Jarvis?”

 

“He’s fine. Been nagging Tony quite a bit, I think. And before you ask, I’ve given him lots of cheesecake, and I haven’t asked why,” She’s smiling again, Peter can tell. 

 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Peter says. “Really, truly.”

 

“You owe me, though. Never in a million years did I think I’d be lying to Captain America about where his own son has disappeared off to.”

 

“Anything,” Peter says. “I’ll do anything.”

 

“Anything?”

 

“Maybe not  _ anything _ , anything,” Peter amends. 

 

She laughs, a warm giggle right in his ear (and it makes him a little bit homesick. Not that Peter would ever admit it). “I’ll let you know how you can repay me for all my efforts.”

 

“I really hope its not too strenuous,” Peter says. “Hey, have there been any crazy intense battles recently? You don’t really hear a lot out here. Its whatever gets printed in the newspapers.”

 

“There was one,” Natasha says. “I told you about it the other day. We really could have used you.”

 

“Huh. What happened?”

 

“Some idiot HYDRA thing. Can’t believe HYDRA’s still around, by the way. It was just one rogue scientist. Experimenting on civilians, like always.”

 

“Any casualties?”

 

“Clint wound up in Medical for a few days,” she says. “He took a nasty hit to the head.”

 

“How long did he actually stay there for?” Peter asks. 

 

“Four hours,” Natasha says. “Then a bunch of SHIELD meds ran around the compound looking for him. Tony got it all on tape, it’s hilarious.”

 

“Where did he hide?” Peter asks, grinning. 

 

“Vents, like always. There were a couple of civvies dead, too. Long before we got there, though. Apparently the experiments didn’t work on everyone. There was a list, Dr Death wrote those ones down as incompatible. We’ve rounded up everyone else on the list, though, all in varying degrees of injury.”

 

“Dr Death?”

 

“Nickname,” Natasha explains. “His actual name was so bland and boring, no one can remember it. Bruce thinks he was trying to do an Ajax, and unlock their mutations.”

 

It takes a while for the name ‘Ajax’ to click, but it does, soon enough. “No- Don’t tell Wade,” Peter says. “He literally just stopped shaking in his sleep.”

 

“Only now?” Natasha asks. 

 

“Yeah. Those videos did a number on him.”

 

“Permission to mortally wound Stark and Rogers, Sarge?” 

 

Peter laughs. “No. Sorry, Nat, but I’d rather do it myself.”

 

Natasha whistles, long and low. “You’re really annoyed, aren’t you?”

 

“️If, I don’t know, if Clint or-or Coulson showed you a video of Bruce being tortured like that, wouldn’t you be?”

 

“Oh, definitely,” she says. “Whoever showed it to me would be dead already.”

 

“Have you watched them?” Peter asks. 

 

“No. Why? Do you want me to?”

 

“I think- I’ll have to talk to Wade, but I think it might help if you knew exactly what happened. Jarvis will have saved what was shown to the offline databases. You can just ask him and he’ll pull it up.”

 

“I’ll watch it later, then,” Natasha says. “Are you okay, Peter?”

 

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“You sound tired.”

 

“I’m not.” And he really isn’t. These have been the first few nights where he doesn’t have dark panda rings under his eyes. 

 

“Sad?”

 

“Nope. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” he admits. 

 

“Lonely.”

 

Peter pauses. “A little, I guess.”

 

“You’re allowed to be,” Natasha says. “Hell, you just blinked off the face of the earth, Peter. I’d be a bit worried if you weren’t realising exactly what you’ve done.”

 

“I don’t regret it, if thats what you think.”

 

“No. I think its good that you left when you did. Might give Tony an opportunity to think about what he did and plan out his big, elaborate apology. All you have to do is decide whether you’ll forgive him.”

 

“Depends how many football stars he can get to say hi,” Peter jokes. 

 

Natasha laughs. “It’d be more then you think, I bet. Hey, I gotta go now. I’ll come see you tomorrow? Maybe bring Bruce.”

 

“Sure,” Peter says. “What time?”

 

“Surprise,” she tells him. “Don’t get too lonely, маленький паук.”

 

“What does that  _ mean _ ?”

 

“Tell you one day,” Natasha says. She hangs up. 

 

Peter smiles at the phone. Isaac Mewton jumps up onto the kitchen table and starts licking the butter. 

 

“No! No, Isaac Mewton, no! Bad!”

 

If Wade was here, Peter thinks, he’d have made a joke. (Something like: ‘I thought you were butter then this, Mr. Mewton. Peter misses Wade and it hasn’t even been a day yet). 

 

*

 

Natasha comes, like promised. She doesn’t bring Bruce or Clint. 

 

Little Miss Sunshine takes an instant shine to her, and barely leaves Natasha’s side (who is secretly chuffed, but doesn’t show it. She keeps feeding the dog little pieces of bread). 

 

They play chess, and listen to the record she brought over (some obscure opera that Bruce likes). 

 

When Blind Al gets there, Natasha smiles and knits too. Because Natasha can knit, apparently. When Peter gets bored of knitting, he gets up and changes the record three times, then bakes a cake. Then, because they’re still knitting (and talking about him. Blind Al and Natasha are actually a bit scary together), Peter distracts them by hitting one of Natasha’s knitting needles with his own. She gives up, and they have a knitting needle sword fight, which she wins. Of course. 

 

Al goes home after three mugs of strong tea and cake.

 

Peter feeds Isaac Mewton, the dogs and his chickens while Natasha watches him. 

 

“So.”

 

“So what?” Peter says.

 

“Nice place you have.”

 

“Thanks. Took us a while to fix it up. Well, took me a while,” he smiles. 

 

“Can I stay tonight?” she asks, staring directly at the sun as it sets. 

 

“Um, sure,” Peter says. “You can have the couch or the bed.”

 

“Couch is fine. Thanks, Peter.”

 

“You’re welcome, Nat.”

 

She hugs him before he goes upstairs. And if he holds on a little too tight, she doesn’t say anything. Which is nice. 

 

*

 

Natasha also gets up early. Its a refreshing, if not weird and unnerving, change. When Peter goes downstairs (while the sun is still getting up) she’s eating cornflakes at the counter. Well, she’s sitting on the counter. The dogs and cat are fed, too. 

 

“You fed them?”

 

“Mhm,” Natasha crunches the cereal and swallowed. “Yep. Watched what you did last night and did the same.”

 

“Oh. Thanks.” Peter busies himself getting a drink. “How was the couch?”

 

“Lumpy,” Natasha says. “You should get a new one.”

 

“When Wade gets back. Hopefully, he’ll bring back some money.”

 

“You running low?” She asks. 

 

Peter nods. “Not really, really. But we sort of need it. I don’t wanna use my card, because Tony could trace that and I don’t want him to find us yet.”

 

Natasha hums. “Smart. Why do you call him ‘Tony’ now?”

 

“Because my Dad wouldn’t have done something like that,” Peter says. 

 

“I’m still open to beheading both of them.”

 

“And I’m not,” Peter smiles. “They might have hurt me and my boyfriend beyond repair, but they’re still my family. Maybe the distant, weird family that you only talk to at Christmas, but I don’t want them dead.”

 

Natasha finishes her cornflakes. “Fair enough. So, what are we doing today? You gonna take me out on the town?”

 

“Sure,” Peter says. “There isn’t much of it, though. Let me just water the garden.”

 

Natasha follows him out. She doesn’t hiss when the cold air hits her (Peter does. Sh.) but she does grimace when Peter accidentally splash freezing water from his ‘buts at her. 

 

*

 

The town is quiet. Quieter then normal. And everything but the coffee shop is closed, so Peter takes her there after window shopping.

 

Its mostly empty, so Peter gets his normal table. And Al brings him two cups of coffee almost instantaneously (because she’s memorised his order by now).

 

“Try it,” Peter says, pushing one cup towards Natasha, who looks at it doubtfully. 

 

“It smells like diabetes,” she says monotonously. 

 

Peter laughs. “One sip?”

 

“If my blood sugar goes so high, I fall into a coma, I’m blaming you,” Natasha tells him, before gulping down a mouthful and wrinkling her nose. 

 

“Nice?”

 

She shakes her head. “Disgusting. Absolutely. Do you even know what proper coffee is? It’s not that.”

 

Peter grins, sipping his own. “I’ll drink it.”

 

“You’ll pass out before you finish.”

 

“I have an intolerance now,” Peter insists, pausing when her phone beeps. “Shouldn’t you answer that?”

 

“Probably,” Natasha shrugs. “If its really urgent, they’ll message twice.”

 

Her phone buzzes three more times. 

 

“Sounds more like quadruple urgent to me,” Peter says. “Wanna check it? What if its the Avengers?”

 

“If it is, if they really need me, they’ll have the quinjet waiting outside. I’m spending time with you here, Peter. New York and the destruction of the world as we know it can wait.”

 

Peter smiles. “Okay.”

 

“So, Wade,” she says before getting cut off by her ‘emergency’ ringtone playing. 

 

“Gonna answer it?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows at the contact name. “Looks like its an Avenger."

 

Natasha rolls her eyes, but picks up. “I don’t care who did it, I’m blaming you.”

 

“ _ Nat, where are you? We need you. Emergency _ .”

 

“Its Clint,” she mouths to Peter. “Emergency. You coming?”

 

Peter shakes his head. 

 

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as i can, Don't kill all the bad guys for me." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> figured id give you some fluff before i FUCK SHIT UP
> 
> comment what you thought!
> 
> and i know, the spacing went big again. sorry!
> 
> (you have no IDEA how proud i am of the pun 'isaac mewton'. its like the cat version of isaac newton and then the gravity pun downer thing. anyway, i think im hilarious. whether i actually am or not, is to be decided.
> 
> well, i seem to have gotten ill again, so i have been doing a lotta, lotta writing. which is why there are some quite quick uploads. chapter four to come soon (hopefully within the next week.)
> 
> anyway, take care of yourselves, my lovelies. have a good day, gang xo


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wade has an ‘oh shit peter’ moment and the avengers are pretty sweet, i guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoooooOooooooOy
> 
> (before reading, please reread the tags! i updated a couple last night and this chapter could be counted as gruesome - except i have a really high violence/gore tolerance so i dont know how violent it could be to one of the more normal caliber)

~~~~

_“Don’t kill all the bad guys for me,”_ Natasha hangs up. “Be safe, Peter. I have to save the world again, okay, but if I can, I’d rather save you. Be here waiting for Wade to come home, okay? Don’t do anything stupid.”

Peter just nods, watching her run out of the coffee shop and he vaguely wonders how she’s going to get back to New York. But then again, she’s Natasha Romanoff, and Peter has never seen her fail at anything.

He goes home soon after, leaving the two cups (one empty, one three quarters full) on the table.

Its quiet. Especially without Wade, or Nat, but he shouldn’t really be moping around on his own. At least, that’s what he tells himself. So he shoots a quick ‘good luck’ text to Natasha, and debates the pros and cons of sending one to Wade.

(Pros:  
Wade might reply.  
Wade will know how much Peter misses him

Cons:  
If Wade’s hiding, it might reveal where he is and put him in danger.  
Wade might feel bad and never do a job again.  
Wade might not reply, which will send Peter into a tizzy about whether or not Wade is still alive and safe.)

In the end, he decides not to. So Peter distracts himself by walking the dogs, watering his crops and putting a ready meal in the microwave. He goes to sleep early, at eight, and decides that he actually really hates being alone. But doesn’t everyone?

He just misses Wade. And Tony and Steve and everyone. But he’s also horrifyingly stubborn, so there is no way he’s apologising to Tony before Tony apologises to him. And if Tony was ready to apologise, he would already have found Peter and done so.

So he falls asleep, and doesn’t dream. Which he’s sort of grateful for. But the sleep is a bit bumpy, and fuzzy and not really very refreshing at all.

*

He wakes up _somewhere_ and his first thought is ‘who’s going to feed Isaac?’

Then he feels a little bit ashamed because surely, Blind Al or maybe Marisa from the vets would check on them. And hopefully water his lettuces too.

Peter turns his attention back to the more pressing matter at hand. Which is that he’s somewhere boring (Hm. Grim, dirty walls. Men with guns. Must be some abandoned warehouse, housing an illegal force. Because he hasn’t seen enough of them before).

There’s a gag in his mouth (a horrible, ratty cloth) and rope and cuffs (both? Really?) tying his hands together and to a chair. The cuffs are a bit too tight, digging into his wrists and no doubt rubbing them raw. The rope is just tying the cuffs to the chair (the chair is hard, and wood and really, quite a shitty chair). There’s a loop around his neck- and he deliberately doesn’t think _collar_ \- tying his head to the chair as well. There’s chains tying his feet to shackles buried in the floor. Good to see that these particular bad guys use every arsenal to their advantage, including giving him various different restraints to break out of. These guys don’t half arse things, do they?

Over all, it sucks. Because Peter’s brain is yelling at him about ‘What if Isaac dehydrates and dies?’ and the slightly more rational part of his brain is saying ‘What if I dehydrate and die?’

Peter blinks. Once, twice, three times. Some of the fuzz ebbs from his vision, but not much. Its enough, though, because now the men with guns look less like toy soldiers and more like, well, men with guns. Which is a bit unnerving, actually, and he sort of wishes they went back to toy soldiers. As opposed to real ones, who would probably shoot him. For fun.

“Aha! You are awake!” Someone announces, with a grating sort of European accent. Peter can’t place it right now. Ask him again when he’s not, you know, laden down with hallucinatory drugs and busy blinking tranqs from his system.

He tries to speak around the gag, which is apparently a mistake, because now his stomach hurts. A lot. And, shit, someone just kicked him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” the someone says, “No, no talking. We cannot have that, can we?” It sounds like they’re laughing, which prompts all the toy soldiers to laugh too.

Peter likens in to that scene, in Doctor Who (the one in the episode ‘The God Complex’, with all the puppets that laugh. Those puppets nearly gave him nightmares for a week and also PTSD around ventriloquists. No offence to ventriloquists.)

(Actually, a little offence to ventriloquists. Its sort of terrifying).

“No, no, no,” the someone says. “No talking, little boy. No talking unless I say.”

Peter, because he learned from the very best, talks back. “Isn’t it bad manners not to introduce yourself?” Only it doesn’t quite sound exactly like that, because the gag is disgusting and dirty and _still in his mouth._

“Ah, so you want to talk? Then we will let you, for now,” The person chuckles. It sounds like grating metal and it shivers through Peter’s bones. They reach around his head for the gag (of course. Standing behind him so he can’t see).

He winces away, which is a little embarrassing but also, this villain has wondering fingers and they trace over his jaw slowly, painfully. After far too long, the gag falls away though. Little victories, he tells himself.

“So, you want to know who I am?”

“Well, its only fair,” Peter says. “You already know me, don’t you?”

“Ah, we know much- so much! about you, Peter Parker.”

“Introduce yourself, then,” Peter imagines himself folding his arms and leaning back in the chair. “Or are you too much of a coward?”

“You are all talk, aren’t you? Talk, talk and nothing more. You are nothing, Spider-man. You think you can get me to talk? You are wrong!” They laugh and so do the toy soldiers. “Have you ever been wrong, Peter Parker?”

“All the time,” Peter says. “Have you?” He’s going for casual. He really is, but desperation is sliding into his tone because this isn’t like every other villain he’s fought. This one knows him, both hims, and they aren’t playing by Peter’s games (Tony always told him, get the villain to talk. Bad guys love to talk, and generally you find out about their plan/your location/sometimes your death date.)

“I will not play your pathetic games, Peter Parker! You will be silent, now, little boy. Or else we will see how you fare without a finger!” They snap their fingers and Peter’s gag is back.

This time, before he passes out, he thinks ‘Great. Magic.’

*

Wade gets home after five days. And the house is _empty_. Its _quiet_.

There’s the fuzzy static from the record player, where its gotten to the end of a record but not been turned off. But thats it, because Peter isn’t here, and all the animals are asleep or out.

And oh, God, Peter isn’t here.

Wade takes a few seconds to control his breathing, before going around and feeding the dogs and Isaac Mewton. He does it painstakingly slowly. Then he turns off the record player and everything is _so goddamn quiet._ So he turns it back on and listens to The Beatles.

There’s another vinyl, something that looks like opera and there’s no way he would have brought it. Maybe Peter did.

Right. Peter.

So Wade tiptoed all around the house, and then all around the garden and then he debated tiptoeing all around town before deciding that’d be overkill. So he tiptoed around the house again.

There was a syringe on the floor in their bedroom. Empty, with a needle on the end and multiple scenarios flashed through Wade’s head.

_1\. Peter was doing drugs.  
2. _ _Peter was cheating on him (not that a syringe would indicate that. Shut up. He’s panicking.)_  
3\. Peter’s in serious shit.

Wade put all his money on three. Which was a bit (read: very) worrying and oops, keep an eye on your breathing, Wilson.

The fuzz bled out of his vision. He could see enough to walk three feet to the phone and he dialled Natasha as fast his (slightly shaky) fingers would allow him.

“Peter?”

“No, its Wade. Um, Peter isn’t with you, is he?” Wade says and, goddammit, his voice cracks.

“Wade?” Natasha sounds all business now. “No, why?”

“He’s not- he’s not here, and there’s a needle and I think its a tranquilizer and I have no idea where he is.”

“Okay. Okay, breathe, Wade. Breathe. I’ll get the Avengers and we’ll come over, is that okay?”

“I think you’d better,” Wade says. His voice is doing the thing Peter hates, where it goes all hard and cold until it doesn’t even sound like him. “Um, thank you.”

“We’ll be there in less then an hour,” Natasha says. “Don’t do anything stupid till I’m there, okay? We can call Director Fury up, and we’ll find him.”

“Okay,” Wade says and he puts the phone down till Natasha hangs up. Then he turns his attention to the record.

He gets to ‘Martha My Dear’ (which sort of makes him feel a little bit worse) before the telltale signs of the quinjet engines whir. He presumes Natasha landed them in the fields.

“Wade?!” There she is. “Wade, hi. We’re here.”

“I can see,” Wade says but it doesn’t really sound like a joke.

“Clint and Bruce are waiting outside with Steve and Tony. Do you want to see them?” Natasha asks, her eyes darting over his face.

“I guess I’ll have to. They can come in.”

“Um, Tony is a bit.. Jittery,” she says. “He’ll probably question you. A lot.”

“Thats okay.” He doesn’t sound like he’s really there, which is a bit unnerving.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” She presses her fingers into his shoulder, hard enough to almost hurt. But its nice and Wade leans into a bit. “Clint?”

“Hm?” Clint says, poking his head round the door. “Hey, Wilson.”

“Barton,” Wade says. Normally he’d grin, but it doesn’t really seem the time.

“Do Tony and Steve want to.. come in?” Natasha says and if Wade didn’t know better, he’d say she was nervous.

“I’ll ask. You sure about this?” Clint asks, narrowing his eyes.

Wade nods, even if he isn’t sure at all.

Steve is quiet, and he looks smaller even though Wade knows that that’s stupid. Tony is just as present as ever, and he’s loud and boisterous. So Wade turns up The Beatles and tries to ignore the heavy breathing coming from Tony (because he’s 95% sure that if Steve and Clint weren’t each holding Tony’s arms, he would be punching Wade already. Which is wrong, because if anyone had the right to punch someone, it’d be him punching Tony, surely. But he doesn’t because Natasha is sitting cross-legged next to him, fiddling with the record player too.)

“Hey,” she says. “Listened to this yet?” And she’s holding up the opera vinyl.

Wade shakes his head no. “I don’t really like opera.”

“Shame,” Nat says, “I brought it up for Peter.”

Wade smiles. “What if he’s dead?”

“What if who’s dead?” Tony demands, his voice louder then life. “What have you done to Peter? Where is he, you asshole?”

Wade sighs. Natasha glares at Tony. “Shut up, Stark, for one minute. Please,” she says. Wade shivers with how cold her voice has gone. “Wade, can you explain?”

“I- I haven’t done anything,” Wade starts. God, his voice is small. “I don’t know what happened. I was out, on a.. job. I got back earlier and Peter was already gone and there was this in our room,” he holds up the syringe. Bruce takes it. “I don’t know what was in it but I guess Peter was drugged and taken.”

If Tony made a face at ‘our room’, Wade didn’t notice. “Why’d you come all the way out here anyway?”

“Why would I tell you?” Wade spits, venomously.

“Wade,” Steve says. “I’m.. sorry. Really. If you can forgive me, I’d like it. I’m just as worried about Peter.”

Wade hums, casting his attention to Steve (who looks genuinely troubled. Like someone just drowned a puppy in front of him. Although Wade would probably look the exact same if someone drowned a puppy in front of him). Thinking of puppies jolts his memory. “Isaac Mewton!” He exclaims. “And I forgive you, Mr. Rogers.”

“Steve,” Steve corrects.

“Isaac Mewton?” Tony asks.

“Peter named him. Our cat. And the dogs!” Wade says. “One- one sec.” He stands up.

“Hang on,” Natasha says. “I’m coming. Little Miss Sunshine loves me.”

“She would,” Wade grumbles. “They’re outside.”

Natasha swings the back door open, and yells “Little Miss Sunshine! Mr Tickle! Mr Bump!”

“What sorta names are they?” Clint asks.

“Surprisingly accurate ones,” Wade says, as Bump trips over the doorstep. “Hey, boys. Girl,” he smiles as the three of his dogs almost knock him over. “Where’s Isaac?” He asks them, as if they’d answer.

“You know, its impossible that they’ll answer you,” Tony says.

Wade grins when Little Miss Sunshine skitters off, before returning with a timid-looking cat. “Really?” He asks, scooping Isaac Mewton up in his arms and nuzzling the cats face.

Natasha smiles too, scratching Sunshine’s head. Sunshine is already curling up to her side.

“We need to find Peter,” Wade says, avoiding the eyes of The Avengers (don’t tell anyone, but he’s actually a little bit scared). He focuses all his attention on Isaac Mewton, who doesn’t seem to mind the eye contact.

“I know,” Tony grits out. “I’ve been trying to, ever since he ran off to this dump.”

“That’s our home you’re talking about,” Wade says.

“I wish it wasn’t,” Tony grumbles.

“Tony,” Steve hisses. “Wade, do you have any idea where he might be?”

Wade shakes his head. “Absolutely no clue. Will we be staying here for now?”

Clint nods. “Seems like the best plan of action. We’ll call Fury, get his agents out looking, too. Is that okay if we stay?”

Wade nods. “You might have to double up. Where’s Bucky?”

“Bucky?” Steve repeats. “Shield,” he says. “He’s got this.. thing.”

“Oh. Okay.” Wade takes ‘thing’ to mean he reverted back to the Winter Soldier and is currently in SHIELD custody. For the safety of himself and everyone around him. “You can stay here. Also, I forgive you, Cap.”

“What about me?” Tony asks.

Wade freezes.

“You made him have a panic attack, Tony,” Natasha explains for him. “And you haven’t apologised or done anything to prove you’ve earned his forgiveness yet.”

“Point taken,” Tony agrees begrudgingly. He still doesn’t apologise.

“He isn’t good with saying sorry,” Steve says, apologetically.

“Neither am I,” Wade says. Its a bit of a lie.

“Thanks for letting us stay, Wade,” Bruce says. “We’ll find Peter. In the meantime, is there anything I can help out with?”

“Peter will want his vegetables watered,” Wade says. “There’s a watering can by the door. And don’t trample them, or disrupt the labels. You have to be careful. Maybe I should show you first.” So he stands up and walks (almost mechanically) out the door to fill up the can, and water the plants. Bruce watches. So does Natasha, although he’s fairly sure Natasha knows how to do it already. She’s good like that.

“I’m gonna check out the situation upstairs,” Tony says.

“Is that okay, Wade?” Steve asks. Wade nods distractedly and only vaguely pays attention to Steve’s whispers to Tony. They’re a bit harsh, which makes him grin.

“Um, you guys can.. go too,” Wade says. Bruce wonders up too, following after Steve and Tony. Clint does too, after a prolonged glance at him.

Natasha stays, running her hands over his shoulders. Little Miss Sunshine is still curled into her side and Isaac Mewton is on Wade’s lap. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine Peter’s there instead of Natasha.

“So, are you really okay?” She asks.

Wade nods, then winces when she digs a nail into his side. Damn her perceptiveness. “No.”

“Whats up?” She says, as if she doesn’t know.

“I’m just- scared,” Wade says. “Have you watched what Stark showed us?”

Natasha shakes her head. “Peter said I should, but that he’d talk to you first.”

Wade smiles. “I want you to know about it all. I’ll, um, dig up the articles tomorrow.”

“What are you scared about?” Natasha asks.

“Peter. And me. And us. Stark _hates_ me. I know he does, and he hates me being with Peter and I don’t really blame him. Peter can do so much better then me.”

“What would Peter say if he knew that you thought that?”

Wade shrugs. “Guess we’ll never know. He might- What if he’s _dead_ , Natasha?”

“He’s not, Wade. He’s far too stubborn for that.”

Wade chuckles at that. “I just want to know whether he’s okay or not.”

“We all do,” Natasha says. “We’ll find him. We’ll get him back, I promise you.”

“How do you know we’ll get him back unbroken? He might be dead, or broken beyond repair and God-“

“Its a given that he’ll be a little messed up,” Natasha says seriously. “Thats always the way. But he won’t be dead, Wade. Really. Really, really.”

“How do you know, though?” Wade asks, desperately.

“Because I know him,” Natasha says. “Here, can I change it?” She reaches towards the record player Wade nods. She puts on the opera. “This is the album Bruce always listens to whenever he needs to calm down after Hulking out.”

Wade finds himself leaning into her. Mr Bump and Mr Tickle drape themselves over his legs and Isaac Mewton curls up under his chin. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but Natasha is warm and steady and the music is quiet. His breathing evens out before he even realises it.

*

Wade wakes up when Little Miss Sunshine wakes up. Which is when something is dropped through the letterbox and she starts barking at it. He fell asleep on the floor last night, apparently, but Natasha must have moved him to the couch. Props to her, he must have been heavy. (Not that he’d ever mention that to her because she’d probably chop his balls off).

He slides off the couch and picks the package up. Its wrapped in nondescript brown paper, with his address and name printed on it in basic font.

Someone pads down the stairs and comes into the room. “Good morning,” Bruce says, yawning.

“Morning,” Wade mutters, turning the package over in his hands.

“Anything I can do?” Bruce asks. “Whats that?”

“Um, can you feed Isaac Mewton and the Mr Men?” Wade asks. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Want me to make breakfast for everyone?”

Wade hums. “That’d be great.”

Bruce wanders off into the kitchen. Wade tears open the package.

Its a blank DVD case. When he opens it, its a blank disc too. Apart from the words ‘Watch this’ written on it in the same handwriting as the address.

Wade turns it over in his hands a few times, looking for anything out of the ordinary. But all it is is an empty DVD case, with a blank disc in.

“What is it?” Bruce asks, hanging about in the doorway.

“No idea,” Wade says. “It was delivered just now. Did any of you bring a laptop with you?”

Bruce nods. “Yeah. Its on the quinjet, I’ll go get it.”

“Its got a DVD drive, right?”

“Of course it does,” Bruce says. “I’ll be right back.”

Wade takes the disc out the case while Bruce is gone. Then he puts it in again. And takes it out again. Because he has an inexplicably bad feeling about it.

Bruce is tapping on the keyboard of his laptop as he walks back in (Wade watches him and thinks how cool and casual and awesome it looks).

“You want to watch it?” Bruce asks, putting the computer on the coffee table.

Wade nods and slides the disc over to Bruce, who puts it into the disc drive with a little click.

He slams the lid of Bruce’s laptop down not even five seconds after the video starts, already feeling like he wants to throw up because _oh, God._

“Oh, my God,” Bruce says faintly. “I’m gonna.. I’m gonna wake the rest of the team. Get some water, Wade,” he pats Wade’s shoulder gently. Wade listens to him climb the stairs.

While Bruce is waking everyone else, Wade goes outside to water the garden, because thats what Peter would want. He pays special attention to the flower bed underneath the window because its his flower bed that Peter isn’t allowed anywhere near (except to water when Wade forgets).

“Wade?” Natasha is standing in the door. “We’re watching the video now. If you want to join us.”

Wade nods and feels himself move, even if he doesn’t want to.

Clint made popcorn (where did he get it from?) and was sitting next to Bruce on the couch. Tony was sitting in Steve’s lap, on the floor. Natasha was sitting on the floor too, leaning against the arm of the couch and Clint’s legs. Wade sat next to her.

Bruce pressed the spacebar on his laptop. Wade gagged, Natasha felt around for his hand and squeezed.

Tony kept whispering “Oh, my God, oh, my God.”

Wade fought the urge to stand up and smash a hole in the laptop screen, because that wouldn’t solve anything and would also make things harder.

The video was in surprisingly high quality, which made Wade’s nausea about ten times worse. He didn’t think he’d be able to watch Peter get hurt in low resolution, so having it in HD was horrific.

Natasha kept squeezing his hand, digging her nails in. It was nice, actually. If he looked past the pain. But it was grounding and also stopped him from panicking so much. Well, he was still panicking a lot. But that was to be expected.

His heart felt like it wanted to rip out of his chest.

“Wade?” Natasha whispers, and he can barely hear her over the video audio of Peter’s screams because they were so goddamn loud, and bouncing around in his head and echoing off his cell walls.

He nods at her. “I’m fine. I need to watch it.”

“If you’re uncomfortable, you can go, Wade,” Natasha tells him.

“I know. But I should watch it.”

The video-Peter screams his name. Wade’s name. Which, yeah, it hurts. A lot. Tugs on his heartstrings.

Tony stares murderously at him and - oh, overprotective dad alert. Wade doesn’t meet Tony’s eyes. Natasha and Clint do, and both of them glare back. Which makes Wade feel minutely better.

Clint throws a piece of popcorn at him. It doesn’t miss, bouncing off of Wade’s cheek and into his waiting hand. Clint grins when Wade catches his eye.

The video ends. Thank God, Wade thinks, because it was graphic and nauseating and also made him want to stab someone at least eighteen times. Bruce slams the lid shut, somehow managing to stay in control.

Tony stands up and storms off. Steve glances at everyone awkwardly before following. Wade just sinks back against the couch. Bruce smiles at him sympathetically and Isaac Mewton jumps up onto the sofa and drapes himself over Wade’s shoulder.

“Do you think Tony will be able to track the video?” Wade asks, and he sounds so tired.

“Hopefully,” Natasha says. “We’ll find Peter.”

“Hey, have you got ice cream here?” Clint asks. He does, so they sit around for a while eating chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream for breakfast. Clint flicks a spoonful of ice cream at Wade, and Wade pours hundreds and thousands sprinkles over Clint in return.

*

“Bruce, give me that video,” Tony demands, barging into the house. Wade wasn’t even aware he had left.

“Hm?” Bruce asks, standing slowly. “Right. It’s still in my laptop.”

Tony nods, opening the DVD drive of Bruce’s computer and taking out the disc. “Fury wants to see it. Coulson says he might recognise the warehouse.”

“Coulson?” Clint repeats, perking up immediately. He might be nursing a sugar induced headache (Wade definitely is. One human being isn’t meant to eat a litre of ice cream.)

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says. “Your boyfriend. Anyway, Fury’s sending over some agents and some security lumps to analyse it. I told him that none of us were going to be leaving Wilson alone so we’re staying here. SHIELD are bringing, and staying, on their own jet.” He spares a glance at Wade.

“Uh, what?” Wade asks. “Um. Thanks.”

Tony hums. “Yeah, well. If you have any friends in this dump, then you might want to call them up. We’ll get security guys situated outside their houses.”

“Dump? Whatever,” Wade says. “Um, I’ll call Blind Al up and get her to come over here.”

“Al?” Natasha interrupts. “We could use her, actually.”

“You know her?” Wade asks, turning his attention to her.

“Yeah. We knitted together. And I defeated Peter in a knitting-needle-sword fight.”

Wade nods slowly. “Okay then. Um, the only other person I can think of is Marisa from the vets.”

“What are the chances of the people going after you going after those two?” Tony asks. “And be honest, because this is important. Steve made me promise not to invoke the greater good theory, so we’re saving as many people as we can.”

“Well, they’re more likely to go after Blind Al. she comes over a few times a week, and we see her at the coffee shop. Great coffee, by the way, you should try it.”

“Coffee?” Tony asks, momentarily distracted.

“Yeah!” Wade says, almost forgetting his previous hatred of the man. “Here, I’ll get Peter’s favourite blend for everyone. Blind Al will be working now anyway, so I’ll ask her to come over after her shift.”

“Peter’s favourite?” Tony says.

Wade nods, standing up. “Its the best.”

“I don’t like it,” Natasha tells him.

“Hold on, you’ve tried it? You’ve been here?” Tony exclaims. “Wait, you knew? You knew and you didn’t say anything to any of us?”

“I told Clint and Bruce,” Natasha says. “But Peter told me he didn’t want you or Steve to know yet, so I kept it to myself.”

Tony sighs. “Whatever. Coffee sounds great, Wade.”

Thats probably the most apology Wade’ll get from Tony Stark. And he said ‘Wade’, not ‘Wilson’ which is a step up. “I’ll be ten minutes.”

“Be careful,” Natasha says.

“I can hold my own,” Wade tells her firmly. “If you don’t like the obviously superior one, do you want anything else?”

“Black,” Natasha says.

Wade nods and pulls the door shut behind him. The sun is reflecting off the quinjet, and Steve is outside chopping logs. Which is nice. Because neither he nor Peter had started doing it yet.

“Steve!” He calls, walking over.

Steve looks up. “Wade! Whats up?”

“Um, thanks,” Wade says, “You don’t have to do that but, thanks.”

Steve glances at the already towering log pile. “Its nothing. Least I can do for you, after letting us invade your home. Especially after, um, what me and Tony did.”

“Its okay,” Wade replies. “Really. Anyway, I was just going to get coffee from everyone. If you wanted anything.”

“Well, if you’re getting drinks, I’ll have a tea,” Steve says, digging in his pockets. “Here, take this for it.”

Wade waves the ten dollar bill away. “Its fine. Al gives me a discount anyway.”

“Al?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. A friend,” Wade explains. “Um, the others are inside looking at the video again. If you wanted to go in.”

Steve nods. “Okay. Are you okay? That video wasn’t easy.”

“I’m fine,” Wade says, even though he really actually isn’t. “They’ll find him,” And it sounds like a lie, even to him. “Anyway, I should go. Um, I’ll be back soon.”

He can’t remember the last time he was so nervous meeting a boyfriend or girlfriend’s family. Then again, he’d never had a partner who had two super powered parents, and then numerous other superheroes in the family.

 

“Blind Al!” Wade all but yells when he pushes open the coffee shop door, because he feels safe here.

“Well, if it isn’t Wade goddamn Wilson,” Al says. “Coffee?”

“Yep, the usual. Peter’s usual,” he corrects. But quadruple it. I have guests. Oh, and add a tea, and a black coffee.”

“How many guests?” Al asks.

“Too many,” Wade tells her seriously. “So, you met Natasha?”

“Oh, is she there?” Al asks.

“Yep. You should come over after your shift and meet them.”

“And how’s Peter?” Al says. “And of course. Shall I bring my knitting?”

“Uh, well. Maybe not,” Wade tells her. “Sorry. And Peter, well, Peter’s not at home right now. I’ll explain it when you’re at ours.”

“Alright then,” Blind Al says. “You gonna take your coffee?”

Wade laughs, and spends five minutes painstakingly fitting all the takeaway cups into those cardboard holders. “So you’ll come over when you’re done?”

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Al replies.

“Okay. Be careful,” Wade says and its a bit more serious then he wanted it to be.

“Are you okay, Wade Wilson?” Al asks, suspiciously.

“Peachy,” Wade says, piling the coffee into his arms. “See you.”

Al doesn’t reply as he walks out of the shop.

  
“Is this it?” Tony asks as soon as Wade gets back.

Wade nods, pointing out the right cup. “This one. Here, Natasha. Steve,” he hands each of them their tea/coffee before unloading the other three on Bruce, Clint and himself.

Tony takes a long drink. “Thats-”

“Fucking disgusting,” Bruce says, swallowing it and grimacing.

“I was gonna say one of the best made coffees I’ve ever had,” Tony says. “But to each his own.”

Wade can’t help but laugh. Partly because its the first time he’s heard Bruce swear, and also because its so odd how quickly he’s been accepted into their (albeit, dysfunctional) family. Nothing like a good kidnapping to bring the family together, he thinks.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes so its been a week! hopefully i can keep this up so it doesnt go longer then a week between uploads. 
> 
> i have this sort of system where i always have one chapter finished in my drive. so i wont post chapter ‘x’ until chapter ‘y’ is written and finished and i wont post chapter ‘y’ until chapter ‘z’ is finished and so on. make sense? good. didnt think so. 
> 
> anyway, how are yooooou? hope youre good. 
> 
> so the marvel “class photo” was posted earlier by most of the cast and i am unashamed to say it actually choked me up. 
> 
> hey, how many of you got the doctor who reference? i couldnt actually remember what the character was called, but i remembered the episode name. hopefully, if youre a whovian, you understood. if you arent, then i expect you to remedy that immediately and watch doctor who as soon as you can. 
> 
> so; i hope im not moving on the plot too fast? i dont think i am, because five thousand words is quite a lot of content so i have to fill it up some how. i just hope it isnt going too quickly. i also think my characterization of wade is a bit off, but we’re rolling with it. just pretend he’s sort of uncomfortable and really super worried about, well, everything. 
> 
> comment your thoughts! (please, i really love reading comments. whenever i need motivation to write, i read through them all.)
> 
> but youre all so lovely and sweet! thank you xox
> 
> *gives hug* take care of yourselves


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wade+avengers fluff, i guess. also, wade has a eureka moment. he has a lot of moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u like!

“Where the _fuck_ is he?!” Wade almost screams.

“Wade Wilson!” Blind Al admonishes, slapping his wrist not-so-gently. “Watch your goddamn language, young man.”

Blind Al, along with the majority of the Avengers, had been staying in his home for the past few days. And they still had no leads on Peter or anything. And Wade was going slightly crazy.

“Sorry, Mom,” he grumbles out, before giving Clint the bird when he laughs.

Tony’s busy, sitting at the kitchen table and tapping away on a laptop that looks far too futuristic for the farm. “Wilson, we have no idea. We’ve had no idea for the past four days and yelling will not plant an idea in our heads.” He has dark circles that look so purple, they’re almost black. Wade knows he hasn’t been sleeping (mostly because Wade hasn’t been sleeping and they bump into one another a lot, when Tony is up tracking every camera in the world and Wade is sweating buckets because the nightmares just _won’t leave him alone_.)

Wade resists the urge to tell Tony to shut up. “I’m just worried.”

Natasha comes sliding up behind him, floaty hands passing over his shoulders. “Come on, Wade. Lets go sit down.”

“I am sitting down,” Wade says, drumming his finger tips on the table.

Natasha glares at him, unimpressed. “Lets go sit outside.”

“Right,” Wade says, “Coming.” He gathers up as many of his sheets of paper as he can, tucking the dog-eared piece in between all the others.

Natasha eyes the paper curiously. “What is all that?”

“Stuff.”

“What stuff?” She asks, opening the backdoor.

Wade shrugs. “Important stuff.” He slips past her to sit out in the garden, half throwing himself onto the rocking chair out there. Natasha considers him for a minute before sitting daintily on his knee.

“I mean the other thing.”

“What other thing?” Wade asks, letting the paper fall onto the deck beside them. “And there are plenty of other good chairs, you don’t have to sit on me. Like, I get the appeal but,” Its a joke.

“The thing that looks like its about ten years older,” Natasha says, deliberately not responding to the rest of Wade’s sentence.

“Oh. Its nothing. Nothing important.”

Natasha raises her eyebrow. “Right. Which is why you’ve been rereading it, and rereading it.”

Wade says again, “Its nothing.”

“So you say,” Natasha says. “Can I read it?”

Wade tenses. “No.”

“You said it was nothing, so surely I can read it?”

“No!”

She moves to pick up the sheet of paper from the pile on the floor when Wade shoves her.

“I said no!” He’s vaguely aware of how his hands are shaking, and how Natasha is on her knees on the floor, staring up at him in shock. “I said no,” Wade says, weakly. He tosses the idea of punching her around in his head, but that’d be overreacting.

He plucks the sheet up, and only the one Natasha wanted to read. The rest rustle when the wind blows, but Wade doesn’t really care because they really don’t matter.

Natasha makes a grab for it as he stalks past, and he really does punch her then. Hard and sharp and, ooh, yeah. That’ll leave a nice bruise. It shocks her enough that she stops trying to grab it.

Wade folds it up into quarters as he storms back inside. Clint and Tony both look, only vaguely concerned because he is probably making a lot of noise.

“Wilson?” Tony says, eyes widening. Wade suspects its because he probably looks completely mad and wild.

He ignores both of them, brushing past Tony when he hurries over.

“Wade? What happened? Where’s Nat?” Clint asks.

Wade doesn’t stop to breathe until he’s locked in his and Peter’s room. There, he unfolds the note and reads it through multiple times.

Its the first letter Peter ever left him. When he had been over in England visiting his Aunt Peggy and Wade had been on a job, back when the only way he could rationalise anything was with drinks and massacres and various other unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Peter had made Wade promise to write to him every time he left on a job, and Peter always wrote back. Sometimes he wrote first.

_**Dear Wade**_ , read the letter, in squiggly, smudged writing.

**_Dear Wade_  
I miss you already. I hope you’re okay.   
I’ve been fighting this thing in New York. You might have seen it. Dinosaurs on the news. Crazy, right? Natasha got hurt, apparently dinosaurs like biting so she’s in the med center right now. I’m there too, but not because I’m hurt. Tony just wanted me to spend a night.   
I’m writing this at night too. Its dark, and I can’t sleep. I’ve spent the last five hours watching Friends reruns and I am thoroughly sick of it.   
Anyway, I love you. Don’t forget that, and don’t get distracted and forget me. I know what you’re like.   
Love you,   
Peter**

He reads and rereads and re-rereads it again. Then he folds it up again and curls around it on Peter’s side of the bed.

Someone knocks on the bedroom door. Well, actually the doorframe because the door was now open. Its Steve, standing there looking tall and big and really quite sheepish.

“Wade?” His voice is soft, and quiet, “Can I- we-“ He amends when Tony darts out from behind him (holding a lock picking _thingy_. Of course). “Can we come in?”

Wade nods, but only because Tony has already thrown himself on top of the bed. “Is Natasha okay?” He asks meekly, and he’s sort of in shock at how scared he sounds.

Steve nods, walking in slowly. “Yeah.”

“Nice bruise, though,” Tony adds. “Where’d you learn to punch?”

Steve flicks Tony’s shoulder. “Sorry about him,” he says. “And how inconsiderate he can be.”

Wade smiles (he can’t help it, because Steve and Tony look almost exactly like he and Peter do sometimes). He’s sort of glad he and Tony have come to a, even if it’s temporary, truce. At least, it stops Wade from shoving Tony off of the bed. “Its fine. And, uh, I didn’t ‘learn’ to punch.”

Tony frowns at him. “Whatever. Why did you punch Nat?”

“She-“ Wade falters. It sounds sort of pathetic now that he thinks of it. “She tried to take this.” He waves the letter, still folded, in the air a little bit.

Tony’s eyes follow it. “What is it?”

“Uh,” is all Wade can think to say. “Um. Here,” he shoves Peter’s letter at Tony. Steve snatches it from Tony before he can unfold it.

“Wade, are you sure? It seems personal,” Steve asks.

“It is. But, um. Yeah. You should read it. You’ll get it.”

Steve watches him for a moment before opening it slowly. He reads it quickly, and when he thinks he’s finished, Tony grabs it. Steve looks up, “Wade,” he says quietly.

“Shit, Wilson,” Tony says, folding the paper into a paper aeroplane and throwing it back to Wade. It glides right into his waiting hands. “Want me to talk to Natty?”

“She would murder you for calling her that,” Wade grins. “And no. Its fine, um. She just doesn’t understand what it is.”

“Would you let her read it?” Steve asks.

Wade shakes his head quickly. “No. No way. I only let you two because you get it.”

“Get what?” Tony asks, and he stands up to start poking around at, well, everything in their room.

“You love him,” Wade says as if that explains everything. “I know the team love him too, but with you, it feels like there’s a piece missing when he’s not here. Like you’re a puzzle, and he’s the piece that you lost down the back of the couch ages ago but the picture isn’t complete without it.”

Tony pauses, freezing right where he is, to consider Wade’s words.

“Thats.. surprisingly well put,” Steve says. “You’re right.”

Tony nods. “Yeah. I’d describe it more as Monopoly. He’s like, the Iron and its missing.”

“Why Monopoly?” Wade asks.

“Because its a pain in the ass,” Tony says.

“He’s a right pain in _my_ ass,” Wade says.

Steve doesn’t catch on immediately. Tony does, and he cackles (cackles), which prompts Steve. As soon as Cap realises, the tips of his ears burn bright red.

Wade laughs, and squeezes Peter’s letter. It makes him gladder then ever that Tony isn’t being a dickhead as much.

*

Natasha is holding an icepack to her cheek when Wade goes downstairs again. He has the letter tucked in his pocket, and if there are tears in his eyes, no one has to know.

Clint sort-of glares at him as he pours probably-cold coffee into a probably-dirty mug. “You alright?” Clint asks, so he obviously isn’t feeling that annoyed.

“Peachy,” Wade says, sipping at the coffee and then spitting it back into the mug. “Yeugh. Its cold.”

“Yeah. I made that a while ago,” Natasha says. “You’re out of coffee.”

“Natty,” Wade says (sue him. He’s not a good decision maker). “I’m so super-duper quadruple triple sorry.” It’s actually sincere, too.

Natasha looks only slightly like she wants to murder him. “I’ll forgive you if you never call me that again. And you don’t even need to apologise. It was mostly my fault.”

Wade nods solemnly. “I’ll never call you that again. Now, what was that about coffee?”

Wade can see her debate whether to continue talking about what happened. Its in her eyes. “You have none left,” she tells him. “I used it to make that now-cold coffee in the pot.”

Wade hums, dumping sugar into the cold mug he already has. “I’ll get some later.”

“You’re just going to drink that?” Clint asks. If Wade didn’t know him better, he’d say it was disbelief. As it was, Clint was fairly good at schooling his tone into something else, so it sounded more like disgust.

Wade responded by chugging the mug. Then grimacing, because yuck (have you ever tried cold coffee? Yeah, don’t.)

“Ew,” Natasha says.

Wade grins. “Where’s Tony?”

“Outside,” Natasha replies, without skipping a beat. “He and Steve are chopping logs again. Steve says its fun, Tony says he likes being able to stab things and not have to fill out any paperwork.”

“Ah,” Wade nods seriously. “That’s a nice sentiment. What about Blind Al?”

Natasha points to the living room, where Al is knitting and listening to David Bowie. Bruce is sitting next to her, tapping away on his laptop.

“Cool. Don’t break my house,” Wade says to Clint. “I’m going to the not-so-super market.”

“The what?” Clint asks, curiously.

“Nothing!” Wade exclaims. “The super market,” he amends.

Clint and Natasha obviously both noticed his slip-up, but neither press on it. Natasha just nods and says, “Bulk buy coffee, okay? You’ve never seen us when Tony’s in worry mode, Bruce is in work mode and the rest of us are busying splitting ourselves between working, worrying and making sure everyone eats three meals a day.”

Wade grins. “Bulk buy coffee. Got it,” Then louder, “Blind Al! I’m going shopping, need anything?”

Al pauses her knitting. “Yarn.”

“No specifics?” Wade grumbles, tucking about forty dollars into his pocket. “Bruce?”

“Tea,” Bruce says, smiling softly. “Herbal? It helps with the.. other guy.”

Wade nods, and then grabs another twenty from the counter. He doesn’t particularly know who it belongs to, but it’d be buying things they were all using. So whatever. He pokes his head out of the back door, where Tony and Steve are both holding axes.

Steve has a truly mountainous pile of logs beside him, and Tony keeps nabbing logs from Steve’s pile and putting them on his own. Steve hasn’t caught on, or maybe he has and is just letting it happen. Either way, its kind of funny. Tony also keeps hitting Steve’s ax with his own, making Steve jump and glare-but-not-really-glare at Tony.

“Hey, Lovebugs!” Wade yells.

Tony grins; Steve blushes. “Whats up, asshole?” Tony yells back.

“I’m going shopping. Need anything?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, thanks, Wade!”

“Coffee!” Tony shouts.

Wade pulls the door shut again and turns around to face Clint.

“Are you two all buddy-buddy now?” Clint asks.

“Who?” Wade asks, feigning confusion, because that isn’t really a question he wants to answer.

“You and the king of Sweden,” Clint deadpans. “No, you and Tony.”

Wade shrugs. “Dunno. He’s alright. Kind of a dick, but I can be too. We’ve _bonded_ ,” he jokes.

“Steve’ll love that,” Clint says.

“Shit. I’m going now,” Wade announces, and then (and he doesn’t run) promptly rushes out the front door before any possibly-mad super soldiers think that he’s having a maybe-affair with his boyfriend’s dad.

Whew. Didn’t think he’d say that sentence when he woke up this morning.

  
He takes his pink bike, and props it against the wall of the market. Then prays to God that it’ll be there when he gets back (not that a town of elders would have much use for a hot pink bicycle.)

The not-so-super market is mostly empty (youch. Still painful). Just like everywhere else in town, like always, so Wade takes his time. He picks out three bags of normal coffee beans, then one bag of a new blend (something infused with berries. He doesn’t really know, but the package was a nice colour and one thing led to another). He dumps four pints of milk, and a kilogram of sugar into his basket too, and then a packet of ginger nut cookies because they’re Peter’s favourite and he wants to be fully stocked with all Peter’s favourites when they get him back.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” the cashier, the same old man from before, says when Wade gets to the counter.

“Been busy,” Wade explains. “Settling in. Maybe we’ll have a party next week.”

“A party?” The old man repeats. “I don’t know how much of a turn out you’ll get.”

“Petey would love a garden party. He’s been growing lettuce,” Wade says (and he sounds sickeningly proud, even to his own ears).

“Well, if you do, let us know,” the man chuckles, ringing up the last ball of yarn (this one is bright purple. Hey, Al didn’t provide any obvious preference).

Wade smiles. “You’ll be the first.”

“Take care of yourself,” he says. “Bye, now.”

Wade wanders out at a leisurely pace, packing the items into the basket of his bike carefully. Its a little bit like Tetris.

He wheels past the music shop, stares at the Elvis vinyl in the window and then thinks screw it. So he goes in and buys the Elvis vinyl.

  
He comes home with a lot more _stuff_ then he expected to, after going in to the music shop to buy the Elvis vinyl (album: Elvis Presley, 1956. Only the best), and then the Greatest Hits of Queen one, two and three.

Maybe buying four vinyl records was a bit much for one spree, but he did sort of have enough money. And the woman at the counter had practically given Greatest Hits three to him (saying “oh, come on, now. You have the other two, why not take the other?”) So now Wade owed her a fruitcake.

“What the fuck,” Clint says when Wade lugs the two bags through the door. “Is that all coffee? Dude, we are going to get so hyped on caffeine we won’t be able to see straight.”

“Its not all coffee,” Wade tells him. “I’m not that irresponsible. This one is coffee. This one is music. I hope you like Queen.”

“Who doesn’t?” Tony asks, wiping his slightly-grease-stained hands on his jeans. Wade suspects he’s been elbow deep in the quinjet (or their washing machine. He’s already warned Tony that they, in fact, don’t need an Artificial Intelligence to do their laundry for them).

“I got Elvis too,” Wade says, dumping the bag with coffee in on the kitchen table and then fanning out all the records on the table beside it.

“Do you, like, have a thing about old-ish music?” Clint asks. “You already have David Bowie, The Beatles and Pink Floyd.”

“Pink Floyd isn’t old!” Tony exclaims.

Clint raises an eyebrow at Tony. “They started the band in 1965.”

Tony ‘hmphs’.

“The Beatles started in ‘62,” Wade says helpfully. “Queen in 1970.”

“Elvis was 1954,” Natasha says, plucking the Elvis album off the table. “What’s Bruce listening to right now? Can we put this on?”

Bruce looks up from the couch, where he’s still sitting with Blind Al. “Oh- I just put on the Beatles. You can change it.”

Natasha switches the records over. Clint grabs her hands and starts to dance to ‘Blue Suede Shoes’.

Wade can almost see how much effort it takes for her not to punch him.

*

He doesn’t think he’ll _ever_ be used to hanging out with the Avengers.

Some nights, they’re all asleep by nine pm. Other nights, everyone is up till three in the morning, laptops whirring and brains whirring (with headaches, generally) and a slightly awkward, subdued sort of hopelessness washing over them.

This was one of those nights.

Wade had only come downstairs to get a cup of coffee (nightmares, man. They’re rough) and Tony had been tapping away on his laptop.

They’d only met twice before like this, and each time neither of them had initiated any kind of conversation. Wade had made a mug of coffee, waved at Tony (who barely looked up from his screen. The light from it didn’t do him any justice, making his whole face look drawn and pale and the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced) and then promptly disappeared to go curl up around Peter’s pillow and pretend that it was actually Peter.

This time, Wade made two mugs of coffee and slid one in front of Tony. Who still barely noticed, but did reach out a hand and take a long drink from it. Wade was almost impressed, because he’d seen Tony drink all his coffee like that, even when it was boiling hot. It was a wonder he had any tongue left at all.

“Can’t sleep?” Tony asks, which makes Wade think that maybe he notices more then he lets on.

Wade shakes his head. “You?”

“Nope. Tracking.”

He doesn’t ask what he’s tracking (Peter, obviously). “Mind if I put on some music?”

Tony shrugs, so Wade puts on the first Greatest Hits of Queen album.

“You should be asleep,” Tony says, about half way through ‘Another One Bites the Dust’.

“So should you,” Wade mutters. “Seriously, man. You look like death warmed over. Not even warmed over, more like boiled and then dried in the Sahara Desert and then hanged, drawn and quartered.”

“Gruesome,” is all Tony says. He taps some green letters that Wade can’t even hope to make sense of onto his screen.

“What are you doing?” Wade asks, slurping his coffee and- Yowch. That’s hot (how does Tony do it?? His cup is two thirds empty already).

“Hacking. Tracking. Same difference.”

“Hacking what?” Wade asks.

“Security cams, credit exchanges, anything. Just.. looking for mishaps.”

Wade pauses. The beginning of ‘Killer Queen’ plays. “What if they haven’t made a mistake?”

Tony freezes. Only for a second, but Wade sees the way his fingers spasm over the keyboard. “They’re stupid. Of course they’ve made a mistake.”

“But if they haven’t. If this was perfectly executed, who’s to say nothing went wrong?”

“Something has to have gone wrong,” Tony insists. “They’re stupid enough to take probably one of the most well protected guys on the planet. They’re too dumb to cover their tracks forever.”

Wade doesn’t say it, but he knows they’re both thinking ‘What if Peter doesn’t have forever?’

They get to ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ before Wade speaks again. “Don’t you think its weird how Peter disappeared while I was gone and while all the Avengers were busy Avenger-ing? Like, Nat had to go while she was with Peter because of a call the day he disappeared. I wasn’t going to be home for at least another two days because these people were causing me trouble. Hey, what did you fight that day?”

Tony humphs. “Just your run of the mill, shitty lab experiment gone wrong.”

“Well, did it feel like a set-up?”

“What do you mean?” Tony asks. “What are you getting at?”

Wade shrugs. “Well, it’ll probably sound stupid but.. What if your battle, and my job were organised by the people who kidnapped Peter? Or at least, my job was sabotaged by them.”

Tony considers this. He considers this for a long time, until Wade is fairly certain he’s given up considering and may have actually fallen asleep. “Actually..”

Wade takes another mouthful of coffee.

“Actually, yes! It would have been distraction enough to keep all of us out of Peter’s business for a bit. The Avengers were out saving the city and then spending far too long in SHIELD medical. You were on a mission, and then sabotaged to keep you there longer. Yes! Wilson, you might have done it!”

Wade allows himself a small-ish, proud smile. A proud-of-himself smile.

Tony seems to be working himself into a fret. Maybe giving the already slightly hyperactive engineer coffee at the painfully late (or early. Depending you looked at it. To-may-to, to-mah-to). hour was a mistake on Wade’s part.

“Do you think?” Wade asks.

Tony nods, meeting his eyes. “Well, we’ll just have to find the people who started the fight.”

They stare at each other for a minute.

“Well, how do we do that?” Wade asks, pleasantly.

Tony frowns. “Did you think I’d know?”

“Well, you’re our current resident genius,” Wade says. “I sort of expected you to have at least half a plan.”

“You came up with the theory. I thought you’d have thought about it!”

“I’m not that clever,” Wade scoffs, self-deprecatingly.

“What?” Tony says. “You- you’re plenty clever.”

Wade glances at the table, dancing his eyes over the wood (and the coffee mug stains and little knicks from that evening when Natasha had kept pretending to stab her knife into Clint’s hand). “Yeah, sure.”

Tony stands up, moving to sit next to Wade. “Really! You might not be clever in the way me and Peter and Bruce are, but you’re not stupid. You’re smart in the Captain America way.”

Wade looks up in disbelief. “Excuse me? I’m nothing like Captain America. Literally everything I do goes against his inner morals.”

“Yeah, but you still know stuff. You know a lot of stuff. You’re not stupid, Wade.”

It makes Wade glad (once again) that they’re sort of friends now.

“And look, I don’t do apologies, but I’ve tried my best and I just.. I wish I hadn’t, you know. Done what I did.”

Wade hums. “I forgave you. You were just protecting Peter. That makes me happy, knowing he has two parents so dedicated to his wellbeing and safety.”

“But still. I shouldn’t have done it. And I don’t really quite know how you’ve forgiven me so easily,” Tony continues.

“What can I say? I’m just a really nice guy.”

“Yeah,” Tony says, sounding painfully sincere. “You are.”

He takes his mostly empty coffee cup with him before shutting the lip of his laptop and tucking it under his arm. “Sleep well, Wade,” Tony says. Then he disappears upstairs, slurping from the mug.

Wade sits at the kitchen table for a while after that, thinking of almost nothing. Then he refills his coffee cup, downs it in one and heads outside.

After all, there’s no better time to practise throwing knives then the early morning, just as the sun is starting to wake up.

(He doesn’t actually hit one target though. Instead he throws one knife, sinks to his knees and sobs at how utterly unfair this whole thing is).

*

Really, Peter doesn’t think he’s ever been in more pain.

He’s drowsy and sleepy and pumped up on enough drugs that he can’t sleep, which sucks. And he has a split lip thats stuck between the stages of being fixed, but also being permanently painful. And he’s 67% certain at least three of the fingers on his left hand are broken. And his foot has scorch marks on, because these guys are fucking psychos who think its funny to put a blowtorch to his ankle. And normally, he likes blowtorches, because they make good s’mores and also good engineering projects.

The drugs that are being dripped into him via an IV that’s been clumsily jabbed into his forearm (which is new. He passed out after the first ‘encounter’ and then woke up, chock full of home experiments) suppress his Spider Powers™️, which means he doesn’t heal as well. They also make him see things. At least, he thinks he’s seeing them.

(He doesn’t want to see them.)

(But then again, his captors or whatever they were, because they still weren’t playing by his rules and everything Tony had taught him hadn’t worked, they seemed to enjoy hearing him scream at imaginary Wade. And scream at imaginary Tony and imaginary Avengers to stop hurting him.)

Sometimes, he screamed for real Wade. Never real Tony or real Avengers, but always real Wade. Wade would help him, Wade would find him and save him and be his knight in goddamn shining armour.

He thinks his brain is melting out his ears sometimes. It sure feels that way, when all the days bleed together and the blood dries in tracks on his skin and the burns steam and his bones shiver with phantom charges of electricity (oh, right. Because these bad guys seem to like electric shocks.)

If he shouts and yells, and especially if he cries, things get worse. Like, worse-to-the-point-of-almost-death worse. Which is a bit of a nuisance.

He gives up trying to count the days. He doesn’t have a window, and the toy soldiers never seem to change shifts. He doesn’t even remember when one ends and the other begins.

They come in and tell him that, “We have been sending videos to your friends.”

And Peter thinks _oh, God, Wade._

And then they say, “They do not care for you, Peter Parker, or else they would have found you!”

And Peter thinks _well, I knew it._

He doesn’t ask what they send the Avengers, because talking gets him punished more. See, he picks up on the rules quickly.

(Being knocked out by the butts of guns appears to make things fairly easy to remember.)

He was fairly sure that they only tortured him for fun. So far, no one had asked him for any information. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen (don’t rule out the obvious) but normally people led with what they wanted.

There were footsteps, the sharp tapping he’d come to associate with No-Name, as Peter had taken to calling them. For no other reason then they hadn’t been formally introduced yet. No-Name and the Toy Soldiers sounded quite cool though, he thinks. Like an Agatha Christie novel or something.

Not that he’s ever read Agatha Christie. But Steve has- Steve went through an Agatha Christie phase. He was particularly fond of ‘Murder on the Orient Express’ and ‘The Murder of Roger Acroyd’. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what was so compelling about the books, but he’d watched the movie adaptation of the Orient Express (much to Steve’s chagrin). There was an entire shelf in the living room on the communal floor at the tower dedicated to her books, and somehow Tony had gotten his hands on near-perfect condition copies of some of the first ever printed. Which made Steve nearly cry.

“Ah, Peter Parker,” No-Name announces. One of the soldiers was fiddling with something behind them.

He fought back the (quite explicit) retort that would most definitely land him in trouble.

“Dear Peter Parker,” No-Name says, and it sounds like they’re reading something out loud. “Dear Peter Parker. I am breaking up with you. You are a pain. An annoyance. You take up too much time. Love, Wade Wilson. Signed Deadpool.”

What.

“Do you hear that, Spider?” No-Name taunts, horrifyingly loud and proud. “You are officially too much. You have no worth.”

“Well, no need to tell me what I already knew,” Peter spits out, which might be a mistake. One of the Toy Soldiers ready to punch him.

No-Name held up a hand, all curly fingers and long nails filed to razor point. First time Peter had seen, well, any part of No-Name. The punch stopped before it could hit him. “You already knew?” They sound disappointed.

Go along with it, Parker. “Oh, yeah. Obvious, really.”

“You mean to say you knew Wade Wilson would break up with you?”

Actually, he didn’t. That one came as an honest-to-God surprise. “Totally. Why wouldn’t he?”

“Oh. Well, then we need better news!” No-Name claps (sharp. Loud. Painful). Then they pull out a gun, cock it and shoot the two soldiers in the heads. “They are new,” they tell Peter. At least, Peter assumes its directed at him. “No one to miss them, either.”

He doesn’t say anything. His brain is whirring, painfully slowly. The hazy blanket that the whatever-he’s-been-injected-with puts over his neurons hurts.

“How did you know about the break up?” No-Name asks. They sound sad, small. This could be his chance.

“How did you know?” Peter replies.

“News travels fast. I have eyes and ears everywhere!”

Getting somewhere, Peter thinks. Sort of.

“How did you know?” No-Name presses. “Tell me.”

He wasn’t even aware that No-Name could make his voice so soft. Peter’s arm starts to burn, but nothing harsh. Drugs are always pumping in and out of his system. No-Name asks another question, one Peter doesn’t remember hearing and doesn’t remember answering.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW its been more then a week and i am so SORRY but writers block, man. 
> 
> anyway, i hope you all have a very lovely valentines day and if you didnt then i hope you had an okay day. 
> 
> comment your thoughts on this chapter!
> 
> 25k words posted. thats a lot. more then ive ever written in my life, like, maybe ever. i also think my inspo for this fic is slowly down (which makes me so sad) but this always happens. i reach the fifth/sixth chapter of a fic and just sort of.. slow.. down.. which is why this one took a while. and i also sort of hate it. but thats fine. 
> 
> hopefully the next one doesn’t take as long. 
> 
> i saw black panther the other day and i LOVED IT. no spoilers, but it was such a good movie! if you get the chance, i 100% recommend seeing it. 
> 
> what do you think about these little snapshots of what peters going through? i think im quite shit at writing torture scenes but hopefully the next few chapters will explain it more and be more peter centric. the pov will probably switch about a bit! i hope you dont find it an issue.   
> take care, okay? love u!
> 
>  
> 
> next chapter: phil/clint feels and a little side mission thing.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has a side mission, tony explodes some rice and it all kind of goes to shit (but really, when does it not?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!

**** Wade had stopped watching the videos the day after the first one, but they kept sending more. At this point (some time after the eighth DVD) (yes, Peter had been missing for eight days) (yes, Wade was going slightly very bonkers) the only people watching them was SHIELD and Natasha. And they always watched them in the SHIELD jet that Tony had made them stay in - thank you, Tony.

 

Actually, Wade was surprised Nick Fury had listened to Tony at all. From his limited experience with the Director, Nick was, well, a hard person to please. And also a hard person to get to listen to you. And also really quite scary (it goes with the job description, apparently, because Maria Hill is also downright terrifying. Coulson, not so much, but thats only because Wade caught him and Clint cuddling on the couch with raw cookie dough on Coulson’s nose). 

 

Although Coulson stayed inside the house. Bonus Clint points- at least, that was Clint’s name for them. Hanging around the Avengers was a bit like spending the day at preschool. 

 

Case in point: Clint was currently throwing Thai Green curry at Tony (how, Wade didn’t know. But there was a piece of green sauce covered chicken sliding down Tony’s left cheek). Tony retaliated by chucking coconut and lime rice at Clint, which ended up going everywhere and also all over Natasha. 

 

Natasha, thankfully, saw the funny side and just dipped a finger in the sauce on Tony’s cheek before licking it off. 

 

Bruce was very obviously trying to stay out of it (not very well, though). He was loitering - for want of a better word - by the stove, stirring a spicy smelling sauce and dodging whenever rice looked like it would be coming his way. 

 

Steve was also Not Joining In. Instead, he was hiding behind a newspaper and trying really quite hard to ignore the food fight. Which worked, at least until a stray piece of slightly slimy potato hit the direct middle of his paper. 

 

Clint falls immediately silent, as did Tony. 

 

Wade snorted as Steve slowly lowered the newspaper. “Who threw that?” Steve asks. 

 

Clint and Tony make eyebrow words at each other for a few seconds before Tony sighs resignedly. “Fine. Fine! I’ll take one for the team. It was me. It was most definitely, one hundred percent  _ not  _ Clint.”

 

“I appreciate your honesty, Tony,” Steve says. “Clint, why did you throw Thai Green curry at me? We’ve discussed this.”

 

“Hold up,” Wade says, trying his absolute hardest not to laugh. “This has happened before?”

 

“Clint smashed a TV once by chucking a day old pizza crust at it,” Natasha explains. 

 

“And exploded a life-threatening science experiment with popcorn,” Bruce adds. 

 

“Okay, I only take fifty percent responsibility for that one!” Clint says indignantly. “You shouldn’t have had a life threatening science experiment in the way of my popcorn.”

 

“It was in my  _ lab,  _ in a controlled environment. You shouldn’t have had popcorn in there anyway,” Bruce raises an eyebrow at Clint. 

 

“One time, he nearly broke the entire tower,” Tony says conversationally. “By chucking radioactive donuts out the window.”

 

“Radioactive donuts?” Wade asks, his interest piquing. 

 

“Yep,” Tony says. “Those were partly my fault.”

 

“How?” 

 

“Well,” Tony takes a deep breath. “I was tryi-“

 

“We’re not discussing the dynamics of the Radioactive Donut Incident,” Steve says firmly. 

 

“It was a whole incident?” Wade whistles lowly. “Tell me later?”

 

Tony finger guns. “You got it.”

 

Steve glares. “Can we not throw food for a bit?”

 

Clint nods. “Yep. Soz, Cap.”

 

“Soz?” Natasha repeats, snickering. 

 

“What?” Steve frowns (which is hilarious in its own right). “What does that mean?”

 

Clint loses it. Like, can’t-breathe-about-to-cry-laugh loses. 

 

Tony flicks Clint’s upper arm. “Its just a fuck boy way of saying sorry, Cap. Nothing to worry about. Now lets all calm down and eat the remains of this delicious meal.”

 

“Wonder why we’re eating only the remains,” Wade says dryly. “I was sure there was a full meal here at one point.”

 

This time, Tony and Clint both glare at him. 

 

Steve shook his head. “Whatever. Wade, stop teasing. Clint, stop throwing food at Tony. Tony, stop throwing..” he deliberates for a second. “Stop throwing  _ rice bombs _ at people. Lets eat whatever’s left, okay?”

 

“Rice bombs?” Tony repeats. “Rice bombs.. Thats.. Thats an awesome idea, Steve. Like, actually really genuinely super good.”

 

“Uhh, what?” Steve says. 

 

“Ever so eloquent,” Wade tells him grinning. 

 

“No, rice bombs!” Tony exclaims. “God, Wilson, where’s the paper in this place?”

 

Wade frowned. “Uh. No idea. Draw on the table, its fine. We already have coffee stains and knife marks.” He glares at Natasha when he says the last part (but stops soon after because Natasha glares back harder).

 

Tony shrugs, pulls out a biro printed with ‘Stark Industries’ on it and starts scribbling equations and other shit Wade doesn’t really understand onto the wood. 

 

“Here, look,” Tony says finally. “Rice bombs. Bombs that explode with lots of little pieces of firepower- the rice- when detonated. And before you ask,” he says when Clint opens his mouth. “Yes, I’ll figure out a way to program them into your arrows.”

 

“Sounds awesome,” Steve says. “Eat?”

 

Tony swallows a mouthful of sticky rice (or whats left of it), “So, you got a garage in this place?”

 

Wade nods. “Yep. Out back.”

 

“Whats in it?” Tony asks. 

 

“Dunno. Old fireworks, a rusty saw and bike helmets.”

 

Tony hums. “Thats enough. Mind if I break apart some of your gutters?”

 

“Take what you need,” Wade says. 

 

“Cool,” Tony stands up. 

 

“Tony, sit down!” Steve tells him. 

 

Tony waves him off, picking up a hunk of bread (Natasha baked a baguette. Which was.. unexpected, to say the least) and swiping it through some of the yellow sauce on the table. “I’ll be done soon, okay. Brain wave. Can’t ignore.”

 

Steve starts to say something as Tony wanders off, before obviously thinking better of it and sighing heavily. 

 

*

 

Bruce is a good cook, Wade decides, swallowing down the last remaining tastes of spicy chicken and appletiser drink (something he’d never drunk before, but Tony brought it in bulk- why?- and Clint decided to turn it into a game. Whoever can drink the most of it gets paid ten dollars from each team member). 

 

There were (only slightly) worrying sparks coming from the garage. Wade could hear spitting noises through the open door, see Tony bent over a table with glasses pushed on the tip of his nose. “Hey, Dorothy!” Wade yells over the racket. “Keep it down!”

 

Tony looks up, frowning. “Dorothy? No way.”

 

“Mhm. Also, Steve wants your head.”

 

“I’ll bet,” Tony says, switching off the electric saw. “But hey, look. Rice bombs.” He holds up a vaguely spherical device. “Obviously I’ll need to work on the appearance of it. But it works. I think. It works in theory.”

 

“Please don’t explod-“

 

Tony throws the bomb at a pile of fire wood that still needs chopping up. It explodes, and then litters small pieces of shrapnel everywhere. When the shrapnel hits the ground, it, too, explodes. “Cool, right?” Tony says. “Its like, Jericho tech. Actually, you don’t know what that is. My bad. Its a missile I built, back when we did missiles. Fire it and it separates into other, little missiles. Only this is a little different because its smaller, throwable and not reliant on smart tech. Same principle, though.”

 

“Um, what?”

 

“Right,” Tony says quickly. “Sorry. Sometimes I forget that not everyone has a 200 plus IQ.”

 

Wade shakes his head slowly. “No. Actually, I was just thinking how you blew my fire wood to smithereens. Thanks for that, by the way.”

 

Tony grins. “Well, you are very welcome. How mad is Steve, by the way?”

 

“Steam coming out of his ears,” Wade tells Tony

 

“I’m practically toast,” Tony says. “I’d better go and see him.”

 

“Yes, you’d better,” Wade says, seriously. 

 

Tony just sighs heavily, wipes his hands on his pants and heads into the house. He takes extra care not to drop sawdust on the crops (which are doing particularly well. Wade is quite proud).

 

*

 

Steve yells at Tony for the better part of an hour. The team all pretend not to hear it. They also pretend not to hear the two of them making up, either. 

 

Wade refuses to sit on the couch for a while, though. Steve keeps blushing. Natasha finds it funny. 

 

They sit in the living room well into the night, all together. Someone puts Queen’s Greatest Hits (volume two) on the record player and they listen in silence. 

 

“Oh!” Tony exclaims. He’s tapping away on his laptop. “Oh. Oh, my God.”

 

“What? What is it?” Wade asks. 

 

Bruce glances over at Tony’s screen. “Send it through to me,” he says, “Or have you invented portable holograms yet?”

 

Tony just grins at Bruce, swipes to the left of his screen and then straight up. A blue-tinged map appears in the middle of the room. 

 

“So?” Clint says. “What are we looking?”

 

“Might be a lead,” Tony tells him. “Look, here. See that red dot? Yeah, that’s the hospital where the spider-nappers got their drugs from.”

 

“The one that knocked Peter out?” Wade asks. 

 

“Yup. We’ll send some SHIELD agents to check it out,” Tony says. “Maybe send Nat or Clint?”

 

“I’ll go,” Clint volunteers. “Unless these guys are in on it too, then it should be quick and easy.”

 

“You’re gonna find out if they’re in on it,” Tony says. “They have a tough firewall protecting all their servers. Massive red flag, but it could also be really harsh patient confidentiality. It’ll take me longer to hack it then it would for you to check it out in person.”

 

Clint nods. “Alright.”

 

“You should still start hacking it,” Natasha says. “There might be something hidden on their servers.”

 

Tony hums, zooming in on the map. “Already started. Jarvis is running an algorithm right now but its slow going.”

 

Steve speaks up. “We should get prepped and send you out as soon as.”

 

“Alright,” Clint says. “Are we talking to Fury about this?”

 

“I was thinking Coulson,” Tony says, ignoring how Clint perks up instantly. “As long as you promise not to let your little infatuation get you killed, we’ll send him with you.”

 

Clint grins unabashedly. “Anyone else?”

 

“I’m going,” Blind Al announces, walking in. She’s dressed in a bullet proof vest (where in the world did she get that from?) and a Glock 17M handgun tucked into a holster on her thigh. 

 

“What,” Wade breathes. “The fuck?”

 

“Knew I liked you,” Natasha says, grinning. 

 

*

 

Clint, Blind Al, Coulson and another non-distinguishable SHIELD agent leave the next day. Tony makes sure (and Steve triple checks) that they’re patched in and ‘receiving loud and clear’ via the comm devices. 

 

Clint keeps glancing at Al. “You sure you’re fit to, you know, come with?” He asks her.

 

Al sweeps her stick around Clint’s knees, tripping him onto his back.

 

“Alright. Point taken,” Clint groans. “Ughh, my spine.”

 

Natasha reaches a hand out to him. Clint eyes it warily. “I don’t trust you,” He tells him.

 

Natasha just shrugs and takes her hand back. Clint stands up slowly, alone and with a barely suppressed grunt. 

 

“You okay, Hawkeye?” Steve asks. Wade is reminded, once again, just how scary and over protective Steve can be when he’s in Captain America mode.

 

“Fine,” Clint says. “Although I think I’m slowly being paralysed. My spine hurts.”   
  


“That tends to happen when you fall onto it, smartass,” Tony says, looking up from the tablet he hasn’t put down in about nine hours. “Anyway, I’m sending the flight path to the quinjet. You’ll take that, fly until you’re five miles from the location and then walk.”

 

“Hold up, you expect me to walk five miles?” Clint interrupts.

 

“We can organise a car. Maybe,” Tony shrugs. “Anyway. Its somewhere in Arizona. I’ve never been to Arizona before. Its literally just a hospital, though. You need to find out if its a genuine hospital, or if thats just a front for a more sinister op. And if its not a front, then you need to see if the drugs were stolen and who stole them.”

 

“Got it,” Clint says. “You’d make a good Fury, you know?”

 

Tony makes a face.

 

Steve flicks his shoulder. “Keep in contact with us. Daily check ins. If it lasts longer then a week-”

 

“-Which it shouldn’t,” Tony says.

 

“If it does, then give us a mission report every Sunday evening,” Steve continues over Tony. “If it takes longer than a month-”

 

“Which it absolutely won’t!” Tony exclaims.

 

“We’ll send more agents in.” Steve finishes.

 

“Got it,” Clint says. He fingers the comm unit in his ear. “Come on then, team. Everyone got their comms?”

 

“I’m team leader,” Coulson says smoothly. “Everyone got their comms?”

 

“Right,” Clint mutters. “Just take over then.”

 

“You seem to like it no-”

 

“Woah! Shush! I do  _ not _ want to hear Agent Coulson joke about his sex life, thank you very much!” Tony yells.

 

*

 

“Mission report,” Is how Steve starts the call.

 

Clint chuckles. “Its been one day, Rogers. Surely you don’t miss me that much?”

 

“We don’t miss you at all,” Tony says. “Pass us to Coulson, will you? At least he’ll actually give us a worthy answer.”

 

“Fuck you, Stark,” Clint grumbles.

 

“Avengers,” Phil says a few seconds later.

 

“Agent! Tony cheers.

 

“Stark,” Coulson says. “Mission report? We got here with no trouble. Clint grumbled all through the walk. We dropped Al off at a motel nearby. If things go wrong, we don’t want her in harms way. I have no doubt that she could hold her own, but I don’t want her to get in our way and vice versa. Agent Mitchell is currently tracking the perimeter. We set up scanners when we got here. You should be getting heat signatures sent to your computers soon. We’re planning to infiltrate tomorrow by sending Clint in there, as a trainee nurse looking for a job.”

 

“Huh. Maybe they’ll let you keep the scrubs!” Wade’s voice is crackly over the communicators. Phil blushes.

 

“Hope so,” Clint says, winking at Phil. Phil pinches his ear lobe.

 

“Shut up, Agent Barton. Mitchell will be back soon. We’ll send her to check on Al in the morning. They’ll lie low until we get Clint inside.”

 

“You sure you got enough brain cells to pretend to be a doctor?” Tony asks.

 

“Fairly certain,” Clint replies. “I might not be as good as Nat but I still know how many bones are in a body.”

 

“How many?” Wade asks.

 

“206,” Natasha answers, her voice just as static-y.

 

“Correct,” Coulson says. He taps his finger tips on his knee. “Enough trivia. We’ll check in tomorrow morning after we’ve devised a plan and Clint’s backstory. We might need records, identification and legal docs. Stark, if you can, I’d like you to forge some as soon as possible.”

 

“You got it, boss,” Tony says. Clint imagines him saluting.

 

“Alright, then,” Steve says. “Be careful. Both of you. If you need more agents, just shoot us a message. Don’t do anything stupid. I know how much you might want to but we can’t hurry this. If we hurry, then we get killed and we can’t help Peter if we’re all dead.”   
  


“Check, Cap. Stop worrying. We’ll be fine,” Clint says. There’s a click and then a short buzz.

 

“We’ll be fine, huh?” Coulson asks. 

 

“I’m Hawkeye. Of course we will.”

 

*

 

Clint never would have expected it to all go to shit so quickly. He really should have learnt his lesson by now, though. Now Coulson was off being questioned about  _ something.  _ And he was tied to a hospital bed with zip ties. 

 

Oh, and Steve was on his comm. 

 

“How did this  _ happen _ ?”

 

“You tell me, Cap,” Clint says. The comm is almost falling out his ear. “I have absolutely no idea.”

 

“Alright,” Steve exhales. “We’re getting Al and Agent Mitchell to come and get you two out. Why didn’t you tell us if you needed more backup?”

 

“Because I had no idea! This was us going in to get me situated inside. Apparently they knew we were coming.”

 

Steve pauses. “So, we have a rat?”

 

“No, we have ultra smart bad guys who still use ancient 1980’s computers,” Clint says. “Yes, we have a rat!” 

 

“Hawkeye, calm yourself,” Steve says in his Captain America voice. Clint does. “We’ll get you out of this.”

 

“I’m calm, Cap. I’m just a little bit jittery because I’m tied to a hospital gurney with pink zip ties and my boyfriend is currently being questioned and maybe tortured and I have no idea where.”

 

“Coulson’s being tortured?”

 

“I don’t know! That’s why I’m panicking!”

 

There’s a whoosh of air in the comm and then Tony’s speaking. “Okay, asshole. Get your head out of your ass and screw your brain on right. Agent is fine, I’ve got all the security cams under my control. They’re just checking the documents you gave them. I promise, okay? Now get yourself out of those zip ties and take deep breaths.”

 

“Right. Got it,” Clint mutters. “Thanks.”

 

“Backup is ETA five minutes,” Tony says. “Got your hands free?”

 

“Yup,” Clint breathes. “I’m free of the hospital bed. Where’s Phil?”

 

“Slow down. He’s fine. Right, do you trust me?”

 

“How many times have you caught me when I jump off of buildings?”

 

“Not what I asked,” Tony says. “And my heart stops every time you take a suicide leap.”

 

“I trust you,” Clint murmurs. 

 

“Good. So you’re kind of flying blind right now. I have the schematics for the building in front of me and I’m gonna tell you how to get to Phil and avoid all the armed doctors.”

 

“Armed doctors?” And whoops, he’s stopped breathing again. 

 

“Barton, seriously,” Tony says. “I need you to breathe. You can’t save your boyfriend if you’ve passed out from lack of oxygen.”

 

“He needs saving?” Clint’s voice raises an octave. 

 

“Shit, uhh. He’s fine. I already said that. Right now, you’re in more danger so get your shit together, Clint,” Tony says. “Now, open the door slowly. There’s no one outside so you’ll be fine.”

 

“You sure?” Clint whispers, tiptoeing over to it. 

 

“Very,” Tony whispers back mockingly. 

 

Clint tries the door. “Its locked.”

 

“So pick it,” Natasha says and it sounds like she’s shouting in his ear. “Put it on speaker, Tony.”

 

“Okay, Tash. Stop yelling. Clint, go down the corridor to your.. left.”

 

“Hang on, I’m still picking the lock!”

 

“Still? Jesus, Barton. Hurry it up,” Natasha says. 

 

“Okay, done. To the left?”

 

“To the left,” Tony confirms. 

 

“Okay. Stick to the wall?”

 

“Stick to the wall,” Tony confirms. “You got this, Barton.”

 

“I got this, I got this,” Clint mutters to himself. Even though it barely does anything to cancel out the mantra of ‘Phil, Phil, Phil, Phil’ that’s taking up about seventy percent of his brain right now. 

 

“Take a right! Right!” Tony yelps in his ear. 

 

“Right here?” Clint hisses. 

 

“Yes. There! Go, now!”

 

“I’m going. Shush!”

 

“Take it off spe-“ Natasha hisses before the sound cuts off. 

 

“Guys?” Clint murmurs. “Tones?”

 

“One sec, Clin-“ Tony gets cut off. 

 

Clint squeezes his lips together and slides down the wall at the sound of footsteps. “Aw, shit,” he mutters under his breath because yep, that sounded like a gun too. 

 

Peachy. 

 

“Stark!” he hisses again, as loud as he dares. There’s a click and then he can hear everyone talking again. 

 

“-A loop! Clint, the security cameras are on a loop. God, I’m sorry, okay. Right, I’m gonna need at least five minutes to get the live footage. Think you can hold your own?” Tony asks. “Whatever. You’re gonna have to because I can’t help you ‘till I’ve got the cams feeding me the live stuff.”

 

Clint grimaces. “I’ll just hide till you’re done.”

 

“Not an option,” Natasha says. “The only live feed is in the room with Phil in.”

 

“What’s happening?” Clint asks instantly. 

 

“They’re punching him,” Natasha says shortly. 

 

_ Breath out _ . “Right. Okay. I’ll be fine.”

 

“Damn right you will,” Tony says and it sounds like he’s holding something between his teeth. “We’ll keep quiet till you’re safe and I’m done. Fewer distractions.”

 

Clint doesn’t reply. Instead, he swings his leg out to catch the Bad Doctor in the back of his knees, sending the man sprawling. Instantly, the guy has a gun trained on him with a steadily shaking hand. 

 

“Aw, c’mon,” Clint says as he glances at the firearm. “At least give me a challenge.”

 

The fake doctor fires thrice and all Clint has to do is duck down. “So, what should I call you?” Clint asks once the man looks like he isn’t about to fire. 

 

“I’m Doctor Gillian,” the doctor says. There’s a little tremor in his voice. 

 

“Crappy bad guy name, man,” Clint says. On second thoughts, riling the guy with a gun up wasn’t a good idea, because there are now another two bullet holes in the interior wall of the hospital. “Do you think insurance covers that?” Clint asks. 

 

“I don’t care. Why are you here?” Gillian asks. 

 

“My friend is in a spot of trouble. I’m looking for him. Are visiting hours over?”

 

“Yours are,” Gillian says. 

 

Clint bursts out laughing. “That was terrible. If you’re gonna threaten me, at least make it sound cool! I don’t wanna go out by being shot by some shitty guy who’s probably never been laid in his life.”

 

Gillian frowns in confusion. Not-so-thankfully, he remedies the confusion with another two, well aimed bullets. That Clint does manage to dodge, but they were well aimed all the same. 

 

“How do you dodge so fast?”

 

“I’m not really sure I should tell you,” Clint hums. “Why not? You’ll be dead anyway. I’m Hawkeye, honey.”

 

He bends down to snatch the gun out of Gillian’s hands, grabs the man’s wrists in the other hand and pulls him up. 

 

“Now, tell me where my partner is,” Clint says, brushing the barrel of the gun to Gillian’s temple. 

 

“You won’t kill me,” Gillian says confidently. 

 

“Won’t I?”

 

“You need me to tell you where to go.”

 

“Don’t sound so smug, Gilley. I don’t need you to direct me for where to go. I can find him by myself, I’m just giving you a chance to prove that you aren’t worth killing.”

 

“You’d spare me?”

 

Clint shrugs. “Maybe. Depends how long my friends take.”

 

“Please don’t kill me,” Gillian says. “I’m sorry. We’re sorry, it was an accident!”

 

He sounds hysterical now. “Sorry for what?” Clint asks. 

 

“For taking him!”

 

“Taking who?”

 

“You don’t know? They took  _ him _ , it wasn’t my fault. Don’t- don’t kill me, p-p-please!”

 

Clint digs the gun into Gillian's forehead. “Who did you take?”

 

“ _ Spider-man _ ,” He’s sobbing now, shaking embarrassingly hard. 

 

“He  _ what _ ?” Comes Tony’s voice. “Kill him, Barton!”

 

“And where have you been?” Clint grumbles. “He might have info. Are Mitchell and Al here yet?”

 

“Yep. I’m directing them to your location. Security cams are live now. Before you ask, Coulson’s fine. He’s a tough cookie to break,” Tony laughs. “Al and Mitchell are on their way.”

 

“I see them,” Clint says. “Hey, guys!” He yells. “Can you look after Dr Bad Guy here? I’m off to find Phil. Get as much info from him as you can.”

but if you go to find Coulson then you’ll let your emotions rule your actions. You’ll get yourself hurt.”

 

“Mitchell, stay here. Sorry, team. I have to find him myself, you know?”

 

“Hawkeye, no,” Steve says. “Stay there. Let Al and Mitchell find Agent Coulson.”

 

“Sorry, Cap. Can’t do that,” Clint says. “I rank higher then Agent Mitchell. I can tell her to stay here.”

 

“Clint, don’t,” Natasha says. “I know you’re worried but if you go to find Coulson then you’ll let your emotions rule your actions. You’ll get yourself hurt.”

 

“Mitchell, stay here. Sorry, team. I have to find him myself, you know?”

 

“Hawkeye, don’t,” Steve says firmly.

 

 

Clint reaches up to his ear. “I’ll check in later,” he plucks the comm from his ear. Right, then. No distractions (no directions either). 

 

“Right, Gillian,” Clint claps. “Where is my partner?”

 

Gillian sobs and tells him exactly what he wants to know. Clint digs around for the gun and then extra bullets. He finds thirty in Gillian’s top pocket. 

 

“Thanks, buddy. I’ll catch you later,” he says before sprinting off. 

  
  


It takes longer then he wanted it to to find Phil. Clint left a hefty trail of unconscious bodies in his wake (and maybe a couple of dead. Oops. It was an accident.) 

 

There are three armed guards outside the door and it turns out to be a really underwhelming fight. He knocks them all out in seconds and they don’t touch him once (although there are several more bullets holes in the walls). It takes him a minute to pick the lock and open the door. 

 

There are three guns (and a surgery scalpel) pointing at Clint when he steps inside. “Well, shit,” he says. “This is gonna be easy.”

 

It isn’t, actually. These guys hold their own pretty well. 

 

“Ugh, you bastard!” Clint yells when the guy with the scalpel cuts a nice, deep slice into his cheek. He collapses unconscious on the floor not five seconds later, though. 

 

A bullet grazes Clint’s left leg which makes him halt and grimace. “Who are you?” The only conscious guy left asks, pointing the gun at his chest. 

 

“Your worst nightmare,” Clint says. “Nah, I’m kidding. I’ve always wanted to say that. Well, I might be your worst nightmare. I don’t actually know. Can you put down your weapon?”

 

The man scoffs and shoots between Clint’s eyes. 

 

Clint ducks at the last minute. “That was rude, man. C’mon, gimme the gun.”

 

“No,” the guy says. 

 

“You know, I didn’t wanna do this the hard one but you’re giving me no choice, man.” Clint clenches and unclenches his fists before reaching out to

grab the man’s wrist and twisting till Clint is pressed to his back. He brings his left arm up to push on the man’s neck and the other pulls the gun from his grip. 

 

“Please!” The man cries as soon as his hold on the gun goes slack. “Don’t kill me!”

 

“You guys are all so.. weak, you know?” Clint says. “Alright. I’m not gonna kill you, okay? I’m gonna get my friends to pick you up and then you’re gonna tell them everything you know. Then they’ll either stick you in a cell for life, or maybe they’ll kill you then.”

 

“But I haven’t done anything wrong!”

 

“Yeah,” Clint says. “Yeah, you kind of have.”

 

He presses his arm down harder, hard enough to knock the man out. He goes limp in Clint’s arms and he drops him. 

 

“Agent Barton,” Phil says thickly. “I’m afraid you’re going to be benched for the time being.”

 

“Phil?” Ew. Clint sounds so horribly desperate. “Are you okay? And why are you  _ benching  _ me? I saved you!”

 

“You’re benched because you disobeyed the Captain’s direct orders, Clint. But I’m fine. Thank you for saving me. Now, you ought to check in with the team.”

 

“Oh!” Clint jolts and fishes the comm unit out of his pocket. 

 

“-int, Clint!?”

 

“Yeesh, Tones, keep it down,” Clint says.

 

“What the fuck, Barton? Why did you think that was a good idea? Steve’s panicking, Fury caught wind of it and is already planning your funeral. How the hell did you manage to pull it off? I’m staring at your image right now, and the bodies you left. All unconscious?”

 

“Most unconscious,” Clint confirmed. “Look, I’m sorry. But it worked, didn’t it? We’re all good. Everyone’s fine. Everyone is fine, right?”

 

“Everyone’s fine. Agent Mitchell has been keeping Al safe. Not that she needs it, because  _ damn _ , the woman can throw a punch,” Tony says. 

 

“Good. Okay, we’ll be back tomorrow,” Clint says. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Cap is astonishingly mad.”

 

“Coulson already benched me,” he says bitterly. 

 

“Steve wanted to kick you off the team, Clint. He was terrified. We’ll send in a SHIELD clean up team so just focus on getting out of there unharmed. Get on the quinjet and fly  _ now _ .”

 

There’s a click and then silence as Clint turns back to Phil. “Okay, we ready to go?”

 

Coulson nods, and stands with a well contained grimace. “Lets go.”

 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

 

“I’m fine, Agent Barton. Quinjet, lets go.”

 

*

 

They sit in silence on the quinjet. Agent Mitchell’s is a quiet, respective, don’t-speak-unless-spoken-to silence. Blind Al just doesn’t have anything to say, and besides, she’s gotten stuck into her knitting. Coulson was in terse, cold silence. If Clint poked him wrong, he’d explode (most likely at Clint).

 

Clint was just ignoring them all and their own brands of quiet. He had an aircraft to fly. The silence and absence of people shooting at him let his brain wander in a way that was both comforting and terrifying. 

 

They touched down soon, and the Avengers plus Wade plus Wade’s pets are all on the lawn. 

 

Steve looks positively furious. Clint debates locking himself inside the quinjet. 

 

There isn’t a greeting. Once again, everyone stands in silence as Clint and his team file off the quinjet. Tony and Wade, for once, are not bickering. Its unsettling. 

 

“Miss me?” Is all Clint can think to say. Normally, coming-home’s are celebratory affairs- not solemn, silent walks of shame). Thats what it feels like he’s doing, a walk of shame. 

 

“Agent Barton is, until further notice, out of commission,” Coulson says. “He will be allowed back on the team once he has proven that he can listen to those with higher authority then him.”

 

Its all entirely unfair, Clint thinks. But Steve is nodding and then Clint decides disagreeing with ‘those of higher authority’ right off the bat probably isn’t the best plan of action. So he keeps quiet. 

 

He realises that maybe Peter (and his kidnapping/running away/secrecy) took a bigger toll on their Captain then any of them expected. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i just enjoy writing avengers fluff. idk. clint had a sort of side mission that will come into play in the next couple of chapters (chap7 is done, chap8 is 10% done. im working on it).
> 
> also, 1000 hits! thanks, guys! really starting to feel the pressure of making this good now.
> 
> so, howd you like this one? im gonna be updating the relationships tags as i introduce more, well, relationships. 
> 
> weird spacing again, i know. shoutout to that person (cant remember your username, sorry) who commented on how to set the settings up so it didnt do that. havent tried it yet so youre all just gonna have to deal. sorry???
> 
> also decided on a total of 10 chapters, which should work if i space everything out right. then ill do an epilogue too, and i want said epilogue too be at least 10k so. i dont know. have to wait and see!
> 
> i think i write a lot of dialog. oops.
> 
> comment what you thought!
> 
> love you xx


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its national we-dont-really-like-fury day and tony explains civil war to wade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u like!

Peter is really getting quite sick of this.

Its been at least a week and a half. At least, thats his best guess. And his best guess isn’t all that good, because half the time he’s knocked out and the other half he’s so hyped up on hallucinogens/anaesthesia/whoever the fuck knows what that he can’t even think straight.

Also the fact that Peter’s heart breaks a tiny bit more every day, and the ‘they don’t care, they don’t care,’ chant gets louder.

Today its something different. He gets moved somewhere.

“Where are you taking me?” Peter asks. There isn’t anything obstructing his eyes, so he can see everything. They haven’t taken the liberty of knocking him out for transport either. He notes, with morbid satisfaction, that the rest of this place is just as disgusting as his room. There’s a myriad of doors too, and each one has two toy soldiers standing guard outside. “Whats in there?”

No-Name, who is trailing along behind Peter, laughs. Their laugh is horrid. Peter can’t decide if its high or low pitched, but it is grating and makes his teeth rattle and heart stutter. “Why shouldn’t we tell you? You’ll die anyway.”

Oh. Great. At least he might get information, in exchange for his death. Lovely.

No-Name keeps talking. “Inside those doors, are experiments. Humans, superhumans. There might be an alien behind one if them - I don’t keep track.” They laugh again. The four soldiers flanking Peter laugh too. “You’re going to go in one, get experimented on too. It really is a true test of strength. We’ll see if you’re strong enough to survive this. Which will break first; Spider-Man’s mind or Spider-man’s body?”

That sounds wonderful.

No-Name’s fingers brush the back of Peter’s neck. “In here,” they say and the guards force Peter through a door. Two of them stay outside.

This room is bright, brilliant, glaring white. Its in stark contrast to dingy greys and mouldy greens of his previous living conditions. There’s a wire casket lying on a surgery table. It must be for him, Peter thinks. Not that he knows why. It just looks horrifying, and smells like burning hair and flesh.

“Now, the last one we had in here lasted all of two days,” No-Name says, “in fact, he died this morning! Don’t let that scare you though. No need to be hesitant! Just hop in, or my soldiers will have to make you.”

“I can stand my ground,” Peter says. “Tell me what it does first.”

The soldiers move to grab him but No-Name waves them off. “Wait, wait. We’ll give the boy what he wants. He’ll die anyway, won’t h? I’ll let you be extra hard too.”

It satisfies them. They remove their hands from Peter’s arms, leaving tingles and bruises. It doesn’t sound good. Bruises sound like they’ll be the least of Peter’s worries by the time No-Name and their toy soldiers are done with him.

*

Wade isn’t panicking, per se. Okay, maybe he is, but only a little bit.

SHIELD were questioning the fake doctors today and, depending on what they let up and if they tattled, it’d mean they (they being the Avengers) were either one step closer to finding Peter and saving him, or one step behind.

Wade still wasn’t sure how he’d react to either conclusion.

Clint had been benched for a week following his “recklessness, inability to follow orders, and how he questioned authority” (which admittedly, was something they all knew about Clint). But it had still needed a crazy big, super argument. Which Clint lost.

They had come up with Terms and Conditions, because apparently the Avengers need rules to deal with things. Wade had only read the first of three pages, because no one reads Terms and Conditions, and they seemed a bit useless in the first place.

(The first term, written in Steve’s practically illegible chicken scrawl on a piece of severely crumpled A4 paper, read:

_1: In the unlikely occasion that a life threatening battle breaks out, Clint Barton will be reinstated from his temporary position of ‘Not On The Team’. If no such battle occurs, then he will remain suspended for a week, unless the Avengers require Hawkeye’s skillset._

Clint had taken minor offence to the fact that it was worded in such a way that made it seem like they only kept him around for his skills as ‘Super-Clever-Murder-Assassin’. Thankfully, Coulson had calmed him down without much of a fuss.)

Natasha had rewritten the Terms in perfectly readable handwriting. She’d only done it after Steve’s attempt (useless chicken scratch), Tony’s attempt (scruffy scribbles that really, only Tony could make sense of) and Bruce’s attempt (slightly better, but not by much, doctor’s handwriting). It was quite the kurfluffle.

But thats all beside the point. The point being, SHIELD were questioning all the fake doctors today. Natasha was too, and Steve and Coulson were going. Bruce, Tony and Wade (and Clint, but he was staying reluctantly. Coulson had asked him to) had opted out but there was going to be a video call set up so they could communicate and watch, if they so wished.

Wade so didn’t wish, but he watched anyway.

“What’s your name?” Natasha asks, and her voice comes through the call a bit distorted and wobbly.

“Gillian,” the man spits out. He already has a bruise, but its yellowing already, so it must be old. “What are you going to do to me? You’re all just a bunch of psychos!”

Clint grunts. “He’s feisty,” he says.

“Gathering that,” Natasha says. “All we want to know is who you are, who you work for and what you know.”

“What happens if I don’t tell you?” Gillian asks, jutting his chin out in an attempt to look braver then he is (but nothing hides the tremor in his voice).

Natasha doesn’t reply. She just drops an especially sharpened knife onto the table and let that do the talking.

“You know,” Tony says, wiggling his toes from where he’s curled on the sofa. “I’m so glad Nat’s on my side.”

“Is she though?” Clint asks, pelting a chocolate covered pretzel at the target he had painted on Wade’s wall. “She could turn at any moment.”

“Please stop discussing my supervillain tendencies when I’m on the job,” Natasha says and Tony and Clint shut up instantly.

Wade throws a salted pretzel at the wall target. It hits just off center and Clint snorts. “Need to work on your aim, ‘Pool.”

Wade throws another at Clint’s chest. It hits his heart. “Boom. You’re dead. What were you saying?”

Clint grumbles in response and crunches and chocolate pretzel.

“Get done quick, okay, Nat?” Bruce asks.

“Want me to end the call?” Natasha says, dragging the knife along the table. “Normally, SHIELD wouldn’t resort to this kind of violence-“

“Who are you kidding, Nat? Of course they would,” Clint interrupts.

“Let her have her moment,” Steve whispers and Clint shuts up. Even if Steve is talking through a camera.

“You know what,” Tony says, with a quick glance at Wade. “Lets end the call. Text when you’re done and we’ll have a family meeting. Bruce will cook.”

“Will I?” Bruce says, and he sounds surprised. “Guess I have little to no choice in the matter.”

Tony grins at him. “You da best.”

“Please never say that again,” Clint groans. “Nat, we’ll catch up later.”

There’s a beep and then silence, and then Tony sinks down on the floor next to Wade. “You alright, Wilson?”

Wade snaps out of whatever daydream he’d been in and blinks the fluff out of his brain before focusing on Tony. “Huh? Oh- yeah, fine.”

“I’m the king of bullshitting,” Tony says. “You sure?”

“Hey! I thought I was the king of bullshitting!” Clint exclaims indignantly.

“Ignore him. You sure you’re fine?”

Wade nods. Even he himself isn’t convinced by it.

“Barton, go make coffee,” Tony says and its only sort of an order. More of a suggestion that won’t end well if it doesn’t happen.

Clint readily complies. Maybe he’s a better spy than Wade gives him credit for. Well, better at reading emotions and obeying orders then Wade gives him credit for. Well, obeying orders when he feels like it. Clint leaves the room to head to the kitchen.

“I’ll go too,” Bruce says quietly, following Clint.

Tony turned a harsh stare on Wade. One that made him feel like Tony was reading his brain. “So, you okay?”

Wade nods again. “Told you, I’m fine.”

“Then I’m fine too,” Tony says. “You’re probably terrified. I know I am.”

“Maybe a little worried,” Wade agrees.

“Terrified,” Tony corrects. “Your boyfriend has been taken, you have no idea where he is and you’ve had a whole load of people- who you have no reason to trust- unload themselves on your home and transform it into a base. I know I’d be frustrated and angry and scared. Hell, I have been. Did Pete ever tell you about our so-called Civil War?”

“Was that the Accords thing?” Wade asks.

Tony nods. “Yep. Want me to tell you?”

“Can you?”

“Of course. So, you know what the Accords are, right?”

“Peter mentioned them. Laws that restrict super-humans and otherwise enhanced beings from doing anything. At least, thats how he described them,” Wade says.

“That was what the first draft did. They wanted us locked up but I brought them down. The draft I showed everyone was the one that stated how all super-humans would be put under control of the government; so that we would stop feeling like we could do whatever we liked and not have to pay the repercussions. You reap what you sow, right? Thats not what we were doing back then. We were sowing and sowing and not doing anything about it,” Tony explains. “Well, I was, in that I paid the damage costs and the clean up teams and medical bills for people who got hurt and funerals for people who died.”

Wade hums.

Tony carries on. “Anyway, Steve didn’t particularly like the idea of being forced to bow down to the government. So he gathered his own team, become a criminal and thats when shit really hit the fan. We each had our own teams- of sorts- and then we went to Germany to fight each other. First big battle of Peter’s; I was so proud. Steve- not so much. He didn’t want me involving Peter in this but Peter wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Sounds like him,” Wade says, smiling.

“Right? Peter stole the shield and Steve dropped part of an airport on him, which I wasn’t very happy about, but what can you do? I knew Steve wouldn’t deliberately hurt our son. I don’t think any of them would, but he hadn’t met Bucky yet. Of course, the idiot decided to seek out Bucky and Falcon and then stopped fighting to compliment Bucky’s metal arm- like the nerd he is.”

“You would have done the same, let’s be honest,” Wade tells Tony.

“Okay- I probably would have, but he was fifteen and didn’t have any fighting experience apart from terrible street criminals and then he decides to just stop fighting one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever met to compliment him. You see my issue with that?”

Wade just smiles.

“We’re getting off topic. So, Steve didn’t like the Accords, and then Steve decided to go all no-one-understands-me-let’s-fight-everyone on me without letting me explain.”

“Sounds intense,” Wade says.

“It was. Thankfully, he stopped after he incapacitated me,” Tony says. “Which gave me a chance to explain and check on Peter and send him home. It took me about a month before I stopped flinching at Steve,” Tony laughs bitterly. “But that was, like, a year ago. So we kissed and made up and here we are. The Accords are still a work in progress but I’ve got everyone on board now.”

“Sounds like a mess,” Wade remarks.

“It was,” Tony says nonchalantly. “Anyway, that frustrated me that no one was listening to me, and it terrified me that it seemed like Steve wouldn’t stop and I got angry that they were just taking my work for granted. And I was so scared that Peter would get hurt. So I get how you feel, not knowing how he is. Hell, I felt like it for about two years before he told us about Spider-man. He came home with bruises from school and then stab marks from his vigilante thing. Damn kid half stopped my heart first time he came home.” Tony laughs fondly.

“Scared me too,” Wade says softly. “We worked together as Deadpool and Spidey sometimes, before we started dating. Of course, he didn’t tell me he was Spider-man after we started dating too.”

“You started dating as Peter and Wade?” Tony sounds surprised.

“Does that shock you?” Wade asks. “We did. He knew I was Deadpool from the get-go, actually. I met Peter when he fell out of a tree and broke his arm in front of me. I laughed for five minutes, took him to the hospital and we exchanged numbers. Then I called him ‘Birdy’ for about two months after. Sometimes, he’ll still answer to it,” Wade smiles. “I mentioned I was Deadpool and he didn’t seem very surprised. So it didn’t come up again.”

“How’d you find out he was Spider-man?” Tony asks, sounding genuinely interested.

“Oh- he came over to mine one night, fell over in the doorway and just said it outright. Then I had to spend an hour cleaning all the wounds he had,” Wade smiles again. “He was a mess that day. You’d think he’d be graceful and well balanced with all the swinging and walking on walls he does.”

“He isn’t, though,” Tony smiles too. “He’s the clumsiest person I know. In and out of his suit.”

“What would he do without us?” Wade asks, rhetorically. “Without us to tie his shoes and help him keep his centre of gravity.”

Tony chuckles. “Coffee? And he’d probably die within three days on his lonesome.”

“Coffee,” Wade confirms. “And you’re probably right. He certainly wouldn’t have a nose, with the amount of times he’s landed on it.”

“Coffees done!” Clint announces. “Who’s landing on whose nose? Is this some weird kink thing that I really don’t want to know about?”

“Oh, definitely,” Tony deadpans. “Noses. Uggh,” he winks and Wade before heading to the kitchen. Wade listens to him bash about and almost drop a mug with a loud “Shitfuck!”

All Wade can do is laugh. “You gotta love noses, man,” he says to Clint and then louder, “Tony, I swear if you destroy my kitchen, I’ll destroy you!”

Clint grimaces. “Yeugh.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Honeybunch!” Tony yells back. “I’m just clearing up the china now! Hope neither of you particularly liked that incredibly plain, painfully boring white mug.”

“Actually, it was my favourite. Real sentimental value,” Wade quips.

Hosting the Avenger’s as guests really livens up the place.

*

Three cups of cold coffee later, and Tony’s back to tapping away on his tablet laptop device thing. Wade is listening to music and keeps changing the album after one song.

“Wade,” Tony says. “I’m begging you. Just choose an album.”

“Sorry,” Wade hums. “I’m indecisive.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Tony groans.

Wade grins. “When do the others get back?”

“Why, you bored?”

“No,” Wade says. “I have info.”

Tony turns around. “Inof? What kind?”

“I only want to explain once. When do the others get done?”

“Uhh..” Tony checks his watch but they’re both interrupted by the door opening. “Right about now.”

Wade jumps up. “Cool. Right, shut your stuff down. Call a family meeting, or whatever you’re calling them. Will I have to fight Steve for the right to talk first?”

“Shouldn’t think so,” Tony says, closing whatever he was doing and shutting the lid of his laptop. “Come on, then. We’ll get Bruce to make grilled cheese sandwiches, or something.”

“Bruce can make grilled cheese?” Wade asks.

“Uh, yeah? He cooked a full Thai meal the other night. Grilled cheese is childsplay for him.”

“Can you cook?” Wade asks, wandering over to the dining room table.

“Pfft, of course I can,” Tony says.

Steve enters, winding his arms over Tony’s shoulders. “Is Tony bragging about how good of a cook he is? Don’t believe it, Wade. Whatever he says, he’s lying.”

“I am not lying!”

Steve levels Tony with a disbelieving stare. “The last time you cooked was when you tried to make salad about six months ago. And you left a scorch mark on the ceiling. How do you burn salad? And how do you burn the ceiling?”

Tony groans. “Okay, maybe I’m as good a cook as I was insinuating.”

“Now Bucky and Bruce do most of the cooking. They’re the best at it in the tower,” Steve explains.

“How’d you figure out who was the best?” Wade asks.

“Oh, it was awesome!” Tony exclaims. “We held like, a cooking Olympics. It lasted about a week. Barton gained about five pounds because he kept eating all the leftovers.”

“Actually, I only ate Bruce and Bucky’s leftovers. The others were mostly inedible,” Clint says, sliding onto the table top. “Are we having a meeting? Nat and Coulson won’t be a minute.”

“Yeah, we’re having a meeting. Bruce will make grilled cheese,” Tony says.

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Bruce says, putting a bookmark into the book he was carrying.

“No, I volunteered you,” Tony tells him. “What were you reading?”

Bruce holds up the cover. “Structure of Scientific Revolutions.”

“Huh,” Wade says. “Sounds mind-numbingly boring.”

“Not really,” Bruce says.

Clint holds up a hand. “If you’re about to explain that book to us, please don’t. There are more important things that need to be discussed.”

“Did you just call science unimportant?” Tony asks. “But you’re right. Wade says he’s found something, and I want Nat and Agent to give me a run down of everything Dr Terrible-at-kidnapping told them.”

Phil and Natasha come in at the same time, Phil holding a beige manilla folder.”Everyone here?” Phil asks.

“Wade, Steve, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, you, me,” Tony says, checking off on his fingers. “All here. Unless you want Blind Al and Agent Mitchell here.”

Coulson shakes his head. “We’ve sent Al home. Its better for her to be at home and safe right now.”

“Why does she need to be home and safe right now?” Wade asks.

“Because she might not be able to protect herself. She’s old, she’s blind and she hasn’t been on a special ops mission for who knows how long. She could become a liability.”

“How dare thee speak of my friend that way?” Wade teases. “And what do you mean ‘hasn’t been on a special ops mission for who knows how long?’”

“We dug into her background,” Coulson explains. “It was revealed that she was involved in some sort of British Intelligence agency.”

“Blind Al was a secret agent?” Wade gasps. “Holy shit.”

“Didn’t you know?” Coulson asks.

“Not all of us make a habit of delving into our friends’ pasts,” Tony says.

“Like you can talk, Stark,” Natasha says, but she’s grinning. “Anyway, Coulson has the video files, back up video files, encrypted audio files and the transcript in that folder.”

“God, you got enough backups?” Tony says.

“Actually, we just want to make sure that our files are safe, protected and that, should anything happen to them, we have back ups,” Coulson says.

“You know, if you let me install one of my AI’s into your security servers, everything would protected as much as it could be,” Tony says. “I’d be willing to se-”

“I’ll tell you what I tell you each time you offer, Stark,” Nick Fury says, stalking into the room. “No.”

“Its the boss man himself,” Tony grumbles. “This is our op, not yours. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to help you,” Nick says.

“Well, we don’t want your help. Go home. We have this under control,” Tony says.

“I hope you’re aware that technically, I can fire you,” Nick says. “Now tell me what you got.”

“Technically, you’re not the boss of me. And if you fire me, then who’s going to supply your weapons, and your armor and some of your best agents?” Tony says. “Let us handle this on, Nick. You can’t do anything we can’t.”

“I can refuse to supply you with back up.”

“We don’t need back up,” Tony scoffs. “We’re fine on our own. Wilson, do you want this guy gone?”

Wade looks up. “Uh- yeah. I don’t remember inviting him in. Why don’t you go back outside, knock on the door and I’ll decide whether to let you in or not.”

Clint stifles a snort.

Nick Fury glares at Clint then at Wade.

“This is my house,” Wade says.

Fury sighs. “Fine. I’ll go back to the SHIELD HQ. You better return my agents in one piece.”

They all watch in silence as Fury stalks out.

“So much for his dramatic entrance. They don’t work the same when you have to make a non-dramatic exit,” Clint mumbles.

“Well, now thats very much sorted,” Tony says, clapping sharply. “Who invited him?”

“I told him I was taking Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton and two minor league Agents,” Coulson admits. “And that I would keep in contact with Agent Hill over the duration of this- whatever this is.”

“So it was you?” Clint asks.

“No. I never mentioned where or why I needed them. But the Director installed trackers into all SHIELD issued vehicles. They would have tracked the jet.”

Tony sighs. “That doesn’t explain how he found out about why, or why he decided that this situation warranted his presence.”

“I just keep thinking about how me and Peter are gonna have to move again,” Wade admits. “Can’t have all you super-human folk and SHIELD lackey’s knowing all our hidey-holes.”

“Never call them hidey-holes again and I’ll personally guarantee that no one finds out where you decide to live,” Tony says. “Anyway, we need to get down to business. Wade, do you want to go first?” Tony opened his laptop, snapped it apart so it was only a tablet and balanced the now-tablet in front of him.

“Uh, right. Yes,” Wade says, and man, this is nerve wracking. “Well, me and Tony were talking the other day. About how maybe we were all set up.”

“You think our battle in New York was deliberate?” Natasha asks.

“Yes. What are the chances that I’d be away and all the Avengers would be focused on other stuff at the same time, and Peter goes missing during that time? My job was sabotaged, which meant I had to spend two extra days on it. Your battle thing was a lab experiment gone wrong. What if it was gone right and made to seem like gone wrong? Anyway, I contacted my employers, I guess you could say. They wouldn’t tell me much but they were obviously lying through their teeth about everything they did say. Which was a pretty big red flag. I had no idea who sabotaged, but if the people who employed me organised it, what are the chances of them employing the sabotager to make sure I’d be away longer. Which would then mean that they had time to set the plan they had for you guys in motion, and take Peter.”

Bruce is nodding. “That.. makes sense. A lot of sense.”

“What do you suggest?” Tony asks.

“Dig deep,” Bruce offers. “Find out as much as you can about the guys who hired you, and the guys who set up our thing.”

“Good,” Tony mutters, tapping away on the screen of his tablet-laptop. He flicks the screen up and a hologram forms out of the camera. “Okay.”

“What are we looking at?” Natasha asks.

“Well, you guys are watching me hack some stuff. Then you’re watching as we read through every little tidbit I can find on Wade’s guys, our guys and this Gillian asshole,” Tony explains.

“Why don’t you read through our information first?” Coulson says. “There should be a file on your private server.”

Tony hums, swiping down to close the other tabs, and opening the one with the file. “I’m renaming it.”

“To what?” Steve asks.

“To..” Tony pauses, thinking. Then he taps in ‘ _super fluffy rainbow pancake’._ “There. Now no one will know what it is.”

“Really, Stark?” Coulson asks.

“Really, Agent,” Tony says, before tapping out the decryption code, and flicking open the actual document. “Audio files?”

Natasha nods. “There’s video and word-for-word transcript on there too.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe you do your job too thoroughly?” Wade asks Phil, and he’s only half teasing.

“Misplacing or losing files due to poor planning, or not doing our job thoroughly may result in worldwide panic. You wouldn’t believe the stuff we keep from public consumption,” Coulson says monotonously.

“Ooh. Tell me more,” Wade says. Clint throws a pen at his head.

“Stop flirting with my boyfriend, Wilson. You have your own, anyway,” Clint says.

Wade just grins. “Yessir.”

“Stop playing, you two,” Steve says in his Captain America voice. “Tony, are you going to play those files?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony says, sounding distracted.

“We’ve already heard it,” Nat says. “Unless you wanna keep yourself and half the team in the dark, then play them.”

“I count as part of the team?” Wade says, happily.

“Well, duh, Wilson,” Tony says. “This is your house, your music and your boyfriend.”

They all pause to listen (and appreciate) the David Bowie record still playing quietly.

“Anyway,” Steve says. “Of course you’re part of the team. I know we had a rocky start, as I’m sorry for that. Its a huge deal that you’ve still welcomed us into your home and helped us so much. Its incredibly brave. I know we haven’t given you much of an incentive to trust us, to trust any of us really. As far as you’re concerned, we’re probably just boyfriend’s scary family.”

“You were at first,” Wade admits. “Then I realised he’s just as scary. He pushed me out of his window every time I came over.”

“So we heard,” Natasha says, raising an eyebrow.

“Anyway,” Steve continues. “I just wanted to thank you. You’ve done a lot for us after we’ve done nothing for you. Its not going unappreciated.”

If Wade wasn’t such a responsible Adult Person, he would have blushed. “Well, thanks, Cap. That, uh, that means a lot.”

Tony mumbles something under his breath.

“Tony?” Steve asks.

“Huh? Oh- yeah,” Tony says. “Right. Done with the inspirational speech and everything?”

Steve smiles. “Done with the inspirational speech. Whats up?”

“Whats up? Nothings up,” Tony says. He taps on the screen a few times. “In fact, things are.. mostly.. down.”

“Tony?” Clint asks. “What’d you find?”

Tony looks up so fast Wade gets whiplash. “Nothing. We can talk about this tomorrow. Right, then. Come on, team, dinner isn’t going to cook itself.”

Steve stands reluctantly. “Are you not going to tell us till tomorrow, then?”

“Not telling till tomorrow,” Tony confirms. He grins and presses a finger to his lips. “My lips are sealed.”

“Is it important?” Steve asks.

Tony smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Only a little. Give me sixteen hours to confirm it and process it then I’ll tell all of you, okay?”

Wade is the first to agree. “Okay. Whats for dinner then?”

Bruce stands up slowly. “Guess I’ll find something. Tony, Steve, set the table please. Nat, can you come empty the dishwasher?”

Natasha nods. “Be right there.” Then she turns to Tony and whispers in his ear. “If whatever you’re hiding is going to hurt anyone on this team, I will not be happy.”

“Would you believe me if I told you its not my intention to hurt anyone with it?” Tony replies, just as quietly.

Natasha pulls away to stare at Tony’s eyes. They’re dark, and tired looking. There are purpling circles under them that make his complexion look pasty and skin look taut. “Sometimes, I’m not sure,” she murmurs and honestly, Tony can’t blame her.

*

Dinner is a quiet affair that night. They don’t discuss Wade’s theory, and they don’t discuss Gillian’s confessions either. Tony thinks maybe they’re all waiting to see what he’s unearthed, or they just don’t want to talk about it.

“So, who’d you leave protecting New York?” Wade breaks the silence.

“The Fantastic Four,” Tony says. “And Xavier’s guys.”

“Charles,” Wade grins. “Love that guy. Did you know that he and Eric Lensherr are like, together-together? And what about all the AIT’s?”

“AIT’s?” Steve repeats, brow screwing up.

“Avengers-in-Training,” Wade explains.

“Oh, like Falcon, Scarlett Witch, War Machine-“ Natasha says.

“Excuse me, Rhodey is not an Avenger-in-Training!” Tony interrupts.

Wade grins. “Of course not,” he says. “Silly me.”

“Yeah, we left all the AIT’s in the City,” Clint says. He’s smiling too. “I love AIT’s. We should put it on their suits instead of the A for Avengers. It’ll be like learner driver permits.”

“Do I get one?” Wade asks.

“You’ll get an A when this is all over,” Steve says. “As soon as we get back.”

Wade gasps. “Really?”

“We’ve already discussed this,” Tony grumbles. “Of course you’re an Avenger, blah blah, help us get Peter back and you’ll both be Avengers, blah blah.”

“Peter isn’t already an Avenger?” Wade frowns.

“No. He refused when I offered,” Tony says. “Can’t say I’m not glad. Even if he does do all the Avenger-y stuff. He just hasn’t acknowledged himself as, well, one of us.”

Wade laughs. “Sounds like him.”

They eat in quiet chatter, just like every night. Clint spills a full glass of sticky mango juice and Wade laughs more than he has in a while.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont reaAaaAlly know how i feel about this one but. oh well. 
> 
> i was gonna post it tomorrow but then i got done today so now hey ho we got a new chapter. 
> 
> ooh, also ive decided that CW still pretty much happened and siberia DIDNT because i dont think tony could have recovered from that and taken steve back. so we’re just pretending that they all got the same info and stuff, but without the leaving-tony-for-dead bits. 
> 
> i saw imagine dragons last night and i honest to god think that my favourite band has become an even more favourite lol. 
> 
> i spent a while going through and fixing all the weird gaps this time. didnt check typos though. sorry. 
> 
> comment what you thought about this! my favourite types of comments are the big ones that i get to long answer and i just love interacting with you all. 
> 
> im currently working on a winterhawk and a winteriron one shot so they’ll probably be up soonish. there also only 3 chapters of this left + the epilogue. i already have them all sort of planned out sooooo. 
> 
> yeah! take care of urselves my friends. see you next week! (probably around the 9th of march, give or take a few days)


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peter feels, phil/clint angst and they finally (finally) get a lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, not sure about this one. hope you enjoy!

 

“So,” Natasha slams a coffee mug on the counter. Its half full, and coffee sloshes over the sides. “Whats up?”

Tony looks up. “Thats not your counter,” he says, looking ghostly pale in the light of his laptop (that he hadn’t put down since dinner last night). He reminds Natasha of a shadow when he’s like this. Hidden, waiting, working and trying his best to ignore everything else.

“Not yours either,” Natasha says. “Why aren’t you asleep? Its four am. What did you find last night?”

Tony turns his attention back to the keyboard, tapping letters and numbers that Natasha can’t see. “I’m still not sure. Five hours, tops, then I’ll let you know. We should read or listen to your interrogation today.”

“Don’t change the subject. Tell me what you found.”

Tony sighs. “Not until I’m sure.”

“Tony, please. Let us help you,” Natasha softens her voice till its barely a whisper. “We’re just as worried. We all care about you, and you’re overworking yourself. You can’t keep splitting yourself in half.”

“I’m used to it,” Tony mutters. “I’ve got to find him.”

“You can’t find him if _you’re_ incapable. You need to sleep, and eat. Take care of yourself before taking care of him.”

“Thats not how parenting works.”

“I don’t care about the technicalities of it,” Natasha says, soft and sharp at the same time. “I care about you. And I care about Peter. I want the both of you to be safe.”

Tony stays silent, save for the tapping of his keys.

“Tell me what you’re trying to do?” Natasha asks, sliding over to him and peering at the screen. “What are you hacking?”

Tony sighs. “Satellites, security cameras - anything. If I can hack into some, I can find Peter. I know they have cameras because of those fucking videos. I just need to find them.”

“Thats what you’ve been doing all this time?” Natasha asks. “On your own?”

Tony nods absentmindedly. Natasha pulls out her StarkPad, and taps Tony’s shoulder. “Budge up, then.”

When Tony turns to her, confused, she smiles. “Two heads are better then one.”

“See if you can keep up with me, then,” Tony says, shifting over so Natasha can balance against the counter too. He reaches out to grab the half-full mug she placed there and takes a gulp, barely grimacing when he realises that its cold. “We should make more coffee first.”

“Send that program over to me and I’ll make some,” Natasha said, poking the button on the coffee machine. Before long, there are too-big espressos sitting in front of each of them.

Tony pulled a flask from his pocket and dumped a good amount of what was likely expensive liquor in each mug. “Lets get to work, then,” he says, taking a large gulp of the new coffee. Natasha would have been surprised at how easily he managed to swallow blacker-than-black, boiling, alcoholic coffee, but then again, this was Tony Stark. It’d be a lie if she said she wasn’t used to it, after all.

*

This is new, Peter thinks. His body is all spread-eagled on a cold metal table. All his joints are aching, which he puts down to the electro-shocks. That wire casket thing from yesterday really wasn’t nice. At least now he was getting a chance to stretch out, even if it meant he had rope burns on his wrists and ankles and it felt like all his limbs were popping out of their respective joints at once. God, he really can’t win.

There’s a needle jammed into his forearm again, but its nothing unusual and only a vague discomfort at the back of his mind. Said needle is hooked up to a fish tank, of all things. The tank is full of what looks like undeterminable substance that is slowly pumping into him. Its grey-ish green in colour, and makes Peter think of green tea. And then his drugged up brain decides he would much rather be getting pumped full of green tea instead of undeterminable substances. At least green tea and the substance sort of smelled the same (algae and moss), so he could at least pretend it was something slightly nicer than poison.

He tilts his head to look into the fish tank, and wonders whether its a hallucination. But they said this was an experiment, right? Why would they make him hallucinate? Its not like they could break his mind further. After all, dreaming that your hopefully-still boyfriend was the one carving things into your skin and shoving his dick in places that Peter didn’t appreciate and then breaking up with you via the person who kidnapped you didn’t really do wonders for your mental state.

They were still recording every torture session. And they said they kept sending them to the Avengers. But if the Avengers were receiving these videos, then why weren’t they getting him out? Or, at the very least, trying to find him. Unless they really didn’t care and didn’t that just solidify every single doubt No-Name had been planting in his brain since day one.

Peter tried to pull out of the cuffs tying him to the surgery table, but to no such luck. Apparently the green tea lookalike was draining his strength. He gave up after a few more sharp tugs, which did nothing but jar his wrist so now he was worse off then when he started.

He could lift his head, so he did and took inventory. The room he was in was the same as yesterday, so he hadn’t been moved. The walls were all bright, clean, antiseptic white. The only furniture was his metal table and a bookcase mounted on the wall, which was housing three books and a torn newspaper. And a shiny semi-automatic handgun, which he tried not to dwell on. The door, which is just as cold and metal as the table he’s lying on, is deadbolted from the outside, presumably, but there’s a heavy duty lock on the inside too. Which is unexpected, and sends a short-lived flare of hope shooting down Peter’s spine.

Then it dwindles out into nothing because there is no way he’s breaking out of these goddamn cuffs in his weakened state. And even if he could, the lock looks too complicated for him to even attempt picking (in his weakened state) and chances are, they’d relock it before he could even make a dent on it. And that didn’t even broach the fact that if he could get out, there’d be so mang guns and men and he probably wouldn’t make it out alive. And if he did make it out still breathing, who would he even go to?

Sure, Peter knows better then to trust kidnapping, torturing villains, but even he was doubting the fakeness of Wade’s so called breakup note. He knew, in his heart, that Wade wouldn’t ever break up with him. But his brain had a different opinion on the topic and it left Peter feeling utterly drained, empty and confused.

So he slumped back against the metal tabletop and tried to block out the fluorescent lights, and the antibacterial smell, and the distinct coppery stains (that were very obviously blood). Then he tried to ignore the pounding of his lungs and how his ribs rattled with every breath.

His skin felt so, so tight and the cuffs pushing down on his wrists burned and the cold table burned. His head burned and his eyes burned and his heart burned.

And, God. Peter stopped himself from crying out for Wade. For anyone else. He thought he could believe in the Avengers, in his boyfriend. But everyone stabs him in the back and its something he really should be used to by now.

Tears draw themselves a path down his cheek, drying sticky and tight. Peter can’t even bring a hand up to wipe them away (which just reminds him of how tight the cuffs are). The lock clicks and he’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice till damp light floods in and someone laughs.

“Given up hope, Peter Parker?” No-Name teases. “Shame. I thought you would hold out for a little bit longer, at least.”

Peter wishes now more then ever that he could wipe the tears off his cheeks. “Never,” he says but its ruined by the way his voice wavers and breaks because he’s actually quite terrified. He’s not sure how much worse they can treat him now, though. Dull, thick poison running through his veins, one meal a day (if he’s lucky), weakened everything and they’ve got him right where they want him. And damn, if that isn’t a punch to the gut.

“So brave,” No-Name trills. “Anyway,” they clap. “We’re going to have fun today.”

Peter holds back a wince at the high pitched shriek and then the sharp clap. “I have a question first,” he manages to slur out and No-Name pauses from where they’re lining up knives/lasers/flamethrowers/a fucking mace where the hell did that come from.

“What is it?” No-Name asks.

“Why haven’t you killed me?” Peter avoids No-Name’s eyes and realises that this is actually one of the first times he’s seen the person. “Wait-“

No-Name laughs. “Yes,” they seem to come to the realisation that Peter’s come to the realisation of who they are.

Peter just squeezes his eyes shut tight and sighs. “So, your name.”

“Yes,” No-Name says again, smiling all sharklike. It makes Peter feel sick.

“But you- You’re-“

“Relax, Peter,” No-Name says. “I’ll explain everything,” their voice drops to a whisper and they trace a finger over Peter’s bare thigh.

“Don’t touch me,” Is all Peter can stutter out, not that it does much to deter the villain.

“So, when do your friends get here?” No-Name asks conversationally. “Are they even coming at all, do you think? I thought one was genius, it shouldn’t take this long, should it? Unless they’ve given up. Maybe they don’t care.”

God dammit. Thats like, the third thing he’s trying not to think about. (First being how much he wants one of Pepper’s cakes right now and the second being how tied up he is. Priorities.) So Peter does what he’s been doing every time No-Name brings up things he doesn’t want to think about. “Of course they don’t care,” he says, slurring a little. The green tea mimic weighs him down inside his blood. “Why would they?”

It seems to through No-Name off course, because they take a minute to think. “Well, then there’s no one to miss you, is there?”

Peter shakes his head, feeling that maybe this isn’t going the way he planned. The fish tank has drained of the substance by now, and he’s feeling equal parts sleepy and exhilarated. “What have you put in me?” He asks and the words slur together again.

No-Name laughs. “Oh, Peter. We haven’t done anything. This is all you.”

“Whats all me?” Peter says, desperately. “What did the stuff do?”

No-Name keeps laughing. “Its nothing. Nothing at all. But,” they pause. “Well, its safe to assume you’re ours now, pet.”

Well, Peter thinks, shit.

*

“What?” Wade says when he stumbles downstairs and into the kitchen. Because here are Natasha and Tony, looking every part as grumpy as one would expect. He takes in the multitude of coffee mugs and the empty whisky bottle and things make more sense. “Did you bring alcohol into my humble abode?”

Tony grunts, glazed eyes darting up to Wade. “Probably. Dunno.”

Natasha looks up too, but her eyes are more seeing. “Morning, Wade,” she says and sounds just as tired.

“What’re you two working on? And what have you been working on since last night, I’m presuming,” Wade asks. He taps a finger against the half full coffee pot and retrieves one of the only clean mugs left.

“That’ll be cold,” Natasha tells him. “And we were hacking stuff.”

“You can hack too?” Wade asks, disbelief seeping into his tone. Natasha levels him with a stare. “Right, of course you can.”

“Standard SHIELD training. Clint had it too, but he quit after the first exam Said he wanted to do more hands on stuff,” Natasha explains. Tony just grunts again.

“Can I ask what you were hacking?” Wade follows the question with a hefty gulp of cold (damn. Nat was right) coffee.

“ _Please_ tell me you aren’t drinking stone cold coffee again!” Clint yells, thudding into the room.

Tony throws a screwdriver at Clint. “Shush.”

“Right. Genius binge. Sorry,” Clint apologises. “You too, Nat?”

Natasha nods. “We were hacking cameras.”

“For?” Clint asks, frowning.

“For Peter,” Tony says. “I know I can find him somehow, I just have to get access to all the cameras. They have to have a camera that I can hone in on, because of those videos they keep sending us. Steve says they’d been getting worse, but I don’t want to watch them any more.”

“I don’t think you, Wade, Bruce or Steve should watch them,” Natasha says. “But there’s no stopping Steve. As long as you three stay out of it.”

“Why do we need to not watch them?” Wade asks. “I can watch them if I want.”

“You can watch them if you want. But do you want to?” Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Anyway, I think its best if you don’t. Maybe once we get Peter back you can. But they’re graphic, and horrible and would ultimately not do you any good.”

“Do you honestly think I haven’t seen graphic before?” Wade scoffs. “One of my first jobs, I strangled a guy with his own intestines. I am no stranger to graphic.”

Clint opens his mouth and shuts it again.

Natasha locks her eyes with Wade. “I know. I bet you I’ve done worse. But this is your boyfriend, not some worthless jerk you’re getting paid to kill.”

“You think you’ve done worse? Sure. We’ll swap sob stories one day,” Wade says.

“Over coffee,” Natasha offers and Tony gags.

“How could you discuss that kind of shit over a latte?” Tony groans. “Thats disgusting.”

Both Wade and Natasha shrug. “I’ve seen some shit,” Wade says. “You grow immune after a while.”

“I’ve seen some shit too,” Tony protests. “And I couldn’t ever talk about it, whether its with a milkshake or not.”

Natasha grins. “You’re just super squeamish.”

“And there is no shame in that!” Tony half yells. “I have had _experiences_.”

“Oh, we know all about your experiences,” Wade says, with a wink. Clint snorts when Tony blushes.

“Why do I hang out with any of you? You’re all just walking dick jokes,” Tony says, shaking his head tiredly. “With the exception of Natasha but I’m only excluding her because she’s terrifying and I’m a little bit probably drunk.”

Wade eyes the empty bottle again as Natasha pats Tony’s shoulder. “Means a lot, Stark,” she says. “Even if you’re definitely tipsy.”

“Who’s definitely tipsy?” Steve asks, all bright and happy and grinning as he walks in and slides an arm over Tony’s shoulders. Tony leans back almost on default. “Tony?”

Clint nods. “He was up all night with Tasha.”

“Neither of us could sleep,” Natasha explains. “So I started helping him hack, into some stuff.”

Steve shakes his head and purses his lips. “Hm.” He glances around until he sees the empty liquor bottle. “I’ll let you off this time, because we’re all stressed and wearing thin. But try not to get too drunk, because we’re of no use to Peter when we’re passed out or inebriated.”

“There’s the good Captain I know,” Wade says. He picks up the empty bottle. “So, did you guys actually find anything of interest?”

Tony shakes his head. “Not really. Managed to narrow down the location a bit, though. Found a clip of Peter in the back of a car about a mile from here.”

Wade perks up. “Where are they going?”

“Dunno. Sorry. The clip was only a few seconds and there’s no way we can find out where they’re going. We got a license plate though, but it was discarded in a dump five miles on. These guys really don’t want to be followed.”

Wade sighs, heavily. “Can’t you, I don’t know, see where they went after that? You can get into satellites and stuff, right?”

“Wade, I’m sorry. I can but that opens up a load of government stuff and paper work and I’d probably be arrested,” Tony says gently.

“I can hack into it, though,” Natasha says. “I have no qualms against going to jail for a bit.”

“You’d- you’d really risk that?” Wade asks.

“Of course,” Natasha looks surprised. “For you and Peter, anything.”

“Aw, jeez, Nat. You’re showing me up,” Tony grumbles. “I’m not doing it. I’m not risking being locked up because I want to be there when we find him.”

Steve squeezes his arms around Tony again. Tony leans back into them. “I don’t want either of you locked up. We might need both of you.”

“I’ll do it, then,” Bruce says. “I’m of no use unless the Other Guy gets out, and I don’t want that to happen. You can get SHIELD medical agents to go with you in case Peter needs medical help.”

“Bruce-” Tony says. “Peter would prefer you then some bitchy SHIELD MD to check him over. And we might need the Other Guy and you. What if there’s some weird science-y thing that I need help with?”

“You’ll manage on your own, Tony,” Bruce says. He reaches for his laptop. “Which satellite will I need to hack?”

“Bruce, wait,” Steve frowns. “Is there anyone else who can do this? I don’t want to risk any of the team, if I can help it.”

“Me,” Coulson says. “I’ll do it. I’m the team’s handler, not part of it. You’ll have to deal on your own for about a week, by which time Director Fury will hopefully have been able to get me out of jail. You might have Peter back then, too.”

“Phil,” Clint mutters. “Don’t.”

“We’ll need to discuss Gillian’s interrogation, first,” Phil says. “Have you even listened to it yet?”

Tony nods. “I have. Dunno about Clint, Bruce or Wade though.”

“I did,” Clint says.

“I haven’t yet,” Wade says. He laughs sharply. “I dunno if I want to.”

Natasha hums. “We can explain the basic gist of it. Phil, I don’t know if you’re sure about this but I don’t think you should.”

“Who else can?” Coulson says. “I understand the need to have all your team around Captain. It’ll only be a week, anyway,” he claps. “So, how do we do it? How long will we have?”

“Phil, wait,” Clint says, tugging on his arm. “I don’t- a week is ages.”

“You’ve done it before, Clint,” Phil says quietly.

“I know, but that's different. This time, we’re all gonna be in danger. I mean, we’ve already lost Peter, we just got back from that hospital thing- which, by the way, was terrifying for me- and now you’re going to get arrested.”

“Clint,” Phil murmurs. “It’ll be fine, okay? It won’t be long. You’ve been away from me for longer.”

“You don’t even know it will be a week,” Clint mutters.

“No, I’m making an educated guess based on past experiences,” Phil says. “Fury hardly ever lets his agents stay locked up for more than a week, okay? It will go quicker than you think.”

“I’m just- I’m just scared,” Clint frets.

Phil squeezes Clint’s hand. “It’ll be fine.”

Tony clears his throat. “You’ll have five minutes before FBI and CIA and all those assholes come. If we’re here when they come, then they’ll probably arrest all of us too. So you’ll be mostly on your own. If you want, we can hook up a comm unit and I’ll walk you through it. If its on a certain frequency, then they won’t pick it up, and they might just ignore it. So you could have it while you’re getting, you know, thrown in jail.”

“I could talk to him?” Clint asks.

“If they don’t take the comm away,” Tony says. “Theoretically, yes, you could. Can’t say I’ve ever tried it though. So it might not work.”

“But it could?” Clint narrows his eyes. “Give him a comm.”

“Okay,” Tony says. “Is everyone alright with Coulson doing this?”

Steve looks troubled. “Not really. But if its our best shot, then.”

“It's our a best shot,” Tony confirms. “Okay, then. Agent, put this in your ear,” he fiddles with a comm unit and then hands it over. “I’ve get one too. Its set to the same frequency, practically undetectable. Whoever comes probably won’t pick it up until you’re in at least.”

Coulson nods. “How will you get the info?”

Tony holds up his own laptop. “You’ll hack on your computer. I’ll connect them so we have a live feed so we can see what's happening to you, and everything on the screen. Right, everyone needs to collect clothes and weapons and anything that could tell someone we’ve been here. They’ll probably search everywhere, so we need to get the SHIELD jet out of here. We’ll fly up in the Quinjet, and hover above the house in stealth. We’ll be practically undetectable.”

“So we need to pack an overnight back and literally every weapon we brought?” Natasha asks. Tony nods.

“Don’t start until we’re ready,” he tells Coulson. “Someone go convince the SHIELD jet to go back to SHIELD HQ.”

Steve stands up. “I’ll go. Clint, if you want to come we can start prepping the Quinjet.”

“I’ll be out in a sec, Cap,” Clint mumbles.

“I’ll pack your stuff too,” Tony tells Steve.

Natasha and Bruce file out together, and Tony follows soon after, Steve on his tail.

Wade lifts the empty bottle he’s still holding to Coulson in a salute and heads out the backdoor.

Clint turns to Coulson. “Don’t do it.”

“I have to, Clint. I have to try.”

“I don’t want you to. I just- We just got back from an infiltration op where you got sort of captured and sort of tortured and I don’t. I don’t want you to go again so soon.”

“A week, Clint. That’s it.”

“A week or longer!” Clint kicks the table leg. “Ah, shit. You don’t know how long it’ll take Fury to get you out. If you’re not waiting for me when we come back from Peter then I’ll break you out myself.”

“I don’t doubt you will,” Phil says. “Clint, come on.” Clint edges over to lean against Phil. “It’ll be fine. Now you go out there and save some people, okay? I’ll be out before you know it.”

Clint leans in to kiss Phil. “Okay,” he mumbles against Coulson’s lips. “Keep hold of the comm.”

“For as long as I can,” Coulson says. “It won’t be forever.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

Its broken by Wade dumping about nine of gun on the table. There are three rifles, two handguns, a pistol, a revolver and two shotguns. He unloads his two katana’s onto the table too.

“Oh- were you two having a moment?” Wade asks. “Sorry.”

“Its whatever. I don’t think we could have a moment with eleven different weapons on the table anyway,” Clint says. “I can’t believe Peter let you bring all of that here.”

“Oh, he didn’t,” Wade shrugs. “Gotta keep him safe somehow though, huh? Not that I did a very good job of that.”

Steve walks back in and freezes when he sees the table. “Um.”

“Oh, hey Cap! Can we bring Isaac Mewton? And Little Miss Sunshine, and Mr Bump and Mr Tickle? Is there space on the Quinjet?”

“Um, I guess so,” Steve says, frowning. “Are they-?”

“All mine? Yup!”

Clint snorts at Steve’s flabbergasted look. Coulson squeezes his hand.

Steve mentally files the amount of weapons away for later. “Okay. Is that all of them?”

“All of mine,” Wade says. “I’ve got my bag here. Mine and Peter’s. I packed both our stuff.”

“Good idea,” Tony says. He sets two bags on the table, one red and gold and one red and blue. He puts Steve’s shield on the red and blue one. “We’re all packed. I just gotta get some stuff from outside.” He heads out the back door and then stops just outside. “If you’re bringing your zoo, they better not get fur in my consoles.”

“Yes, sir,” Wade says. He snatches Isaac Mewton up from the counter he was walking on and puts him on his shoulder. “Hey, lil’ buddy. I want you to shed all of your fur on Tony’s plane.”

Tony just sighs and wanders off to the garage, muttering to himself.

  
“So, is everyone ready?” Steve asks. The table is covered in bags and guns and Natasha’s fancy set of knives. Wade keeps eyeing them with interest, but then Natasha mimes stabbing him with one so he stops.

Tony shoves open the backdoor and unloads about twenty small-ish, apple shaped things on the table.

“What is this?” Steve asks.

“My rice bombs,” Tony explains. “They’re awesome and I don’t want to leave them here.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright. We need to load this into the Quinjet. Everyone take your own stuff.”

“Should we change into our suits?” Natasha suggests.

Steve nods. “Yeah. Good idea, Nat. So everybody change into their suits and then put stuff in the Quinjet.”

  
When they reconvene, everyone is suited up save for Tony. (“Because lugging around a hunk of metal isn’t the most comfortable”). Steve clips his shield to his back, Natasha slides three knives and two guns into their designated sheaths on her suit. Clint grips his bow in a fist, holding it so tightly, his knuckles are white. Coulson slides his fingers over Clint’s to try and loosen them.

“Is everyone ready?” Steve asks.

Tony nods and turns to Coulson. He holds a hand out. “Laptop, please.” He takes it from Coulson, opens it and then opens his own. “So, like I said, I’ll sync them up so we can see you from the webcam and also the screen.”

“So you’re hacking my webcam?” Phil asks.

“They’re practically made to be hacked. If they didn’t want people to do it, they should make them harder to get into,” Tony grins when he peels the ladybird sticker away from Phil’s webcam. “Nice sticker.”

Coulson, to his credit, doesn’t blush. He just says “Get on with it, Stark.”

Tony chuckles, tapping something on Phil’s laptop and then his. A window opens on Tony’s laptop. “There. Done. Okay, so put this in your ear. You’ll be able to hear us and we can hear you. The microphone on it is strong enough that we should be able to hear what other people are saying, should they come.”

Coulson takes the comm, fitting it in his ear. “Okay.”

“Right, I want Wade and Natasha to come with me and set up the Quinjet,” Steve says. “We’ll take everyones bags too.”

Wade nods, pulls his mask on, and slides his katanas onto his back. Then he hooks three of the guns onto his suit, before replacing Isaac Mewton on his shoulder and whistling for the dogs, who all come running. He slings two bags onto his arm. “Come on, then.”

He makes quite the picture, Clint thinks. Standing there with five deadly weapons and kitten on his shoulder.

Steve hooks a couple of bags over his shoulders too, and Natasha picks up all the leftover weapons. They head off in a line, Wade in front followed by his three dogs, Steve and then Nat.

Tony fiddles with one more thing on Coulson’s laptop before standing up. “Okay. That's good. That's done. Bruce, you wanna check it over just in case?”

Bruce shakes his head, smiles and holds up his hands. “I have full faith in your abilities as a hacker. Even if I don’t especially condone it.”

Tony grins. He starts to say something, but gets cut off by Wade rushing inside and picking up the record player. “We forgot our vinyls!” Deadpool exclaims, piling them all up in his arms.

Tony just shakes his head and stares after Wade as he runs back out.

Clint smiles, leaning against Coulson again. “So, they won’t be able to trace it back to you,” Coulson says. “Right?”

“No,” Tony confirms. “We’ll be completely untraceable.”

“Good,” Coulson replies. He pulls his laptop over to him.

Tony picks up his. “Got your comm in? Good,” he plucks another comm unit up and puts it in his pocket. “I’ll activate this once we’re all in the Quinjet. Then I can walk you through it all.”

Phil nods. “Okay.”

“I’m gonna go see how the others are doing,” Tony says. “Bruce?”

They walk out together and Clint is kind of glad for the privacy.

“You should go,” Phil tells him.

Clint shakes his head. “Just- Just don’t get in any fights with the other inmates, okay? And get rid of the orange jumpsuit as soon as you’re out because orange seriously isn’t your colour.”

“Thanks,” Phil says dryly. “I’ll burn it.”

“Actually, save it so I can burn it,” Clint requests. “Please.”

“Sure thing,” Phil says.

Clint frowns. “I still don’t like this. I know, it’s not that long. But it could end up being longer then both of us think and there is no point in you getting my hopes up by saying you’ll only be gone a week because it might be longer. And I know that prisoners can be really violent so if you get even one bruise, I will give you three more.”

“How do you know prisoners can be violent?” Coulson asks.

“Oh, like you haven’t read my file,” Clint mutters. “And besides, its common sense that prisoners are violent.”

Coulson just hums. “Alright. I won’t get myself hurt. I’m not suicidal. Prisoners can be violent.”

“Thank you.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to make stupid decisions either, okay?” He tells Clint. “If I come out and find you in SHIELD medical or some hospital or something, I’ll make sure you stay in there for two more weeks.”

“Okay,” Clint says. He grins. “I should go.”

“You should.”

Clint leans over to kiss Phil again. “Love you.”

“I’ll see you later, Agent Barton.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked! comment what u thought (i need motivation and opiniond pLEASE)
> 
> i wrote 3k in 1.5hrs last night which is the quickest ive ever written. so now im onto chapter ten. i wasnt going to post this till tomorrow, but then i finished last night so i thought ‘why not?’
> 
> not sure if anyone noticed, but i changed the rating on this because you know, torture and fight scenes and pretty harsh language in some places. 
> 
> also my google drive doc has officially reached 150 pages (which is Crazy). i never ever expected id actually nearly finish this fic with all 50k words. oh man. im aiming for 80k words actually: the epilogue is going to be 30k hopefully (which is super duper extra crazy. what am i thinking). it does mean that it might take me Ages to write the epilogue. 
> 
> anyway, take care of yourselves! ill see you in chapter nine, which will hopefully be uploaded on the 14th. no promises though, because its my cousins birthday the day before so it depends on how much of a chance i get to write.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> clint worries, wade worries, and steve lets the self proclaimed zoo on board the quinjet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like!

They were hovering above the house in the Quinjet when the comm crackled.

“Avengers?” Coulson says, his voice broadcasting through the jet.

“Agent!” Tony announces. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”  


“Good. Last time I tried this, I had about five minutes to get in and get everything,” Tony says.  


Wade interrupts, “You’ve hacked this stuff before?”  


“Of course I have. Honestly, who do you take me for?” Tony says. “Anyway, Coulson, open the software I downloaded. I’ll be able to see the screen so I can tell you what to type and stuff.”  


“I do know how to hack, you know,” Phil grumbles, opening the app.  


“Yeah, but do you know how to hack into stuff secured with firewall upon firewall, where making one mistake could get you killed?”  


“What?” Clint shrieks. “Get him killed?”

Tony just grins at Clint. “He’ll be fine, as long as he does exactly as I direct. Okay, so now you have to type in the password.”

“What’s the password?” Coulson asks.

Tony says a series of numbers and letters that Wade can’t catch. Apparently, Coulson does, though, because he’s typing them in and then saying “Okay. I’m in, what next?”

It takes them two and a half minutes to hack the satellites, and then another minute for Tony to download the files. 

“Okay, you’re gonna have company in about thirty seconds,” Tony says, barely glancing up from where he’s skimming through footage from the satellite cameras. 

“Keep hold of the comm,” Clint says, and he sounds painfully desperate. “Don’t let them take it.”

“I’ve got it,” Phil says. He smiles at the webcam.

Wade turns to look at Clint, who is smiling even though Phil can’t see him and stroking Mr Bump.

“They’re there, Agent,” Tony says and he sounds a little bit worried. “We’ll come bust you out once we’ve got Peter, okay?”

They see Coulson nod once, and then the webcam shuts out. Clint chokes on a breath. “Be careful,” Coulson says before he’s interrupted by the door being forced open and someone shouting:

“Put your hands in the air! Step away from the computer!”

Wade just sighs when the audio goes fuzzy. “Guess we’ll definitely have to move now.”

Clint laughs, although it doesn’t really sound like him. “Guess you will, huh?”

Natasha tangles her right hand in Little Miss Sunshine’s fur and her left hand in Clint’s. “Maybe go off grid for a while.”

“Or you could both come live at the tower so I can keep an eye on the two of you,” Tony suggests, picking Isaac Mewton off of the control board and dumping the cat in his lap.

“Cockblock,” Wade mutters and Clint snorts so loud Mr Bump nearly falls over.

  


*

  


He isn’t really sure what they’ve done to him, what they’ve put in his body. They don’t seem to care though, which is fine, he thinks.

The door stays shut, the lock stays locked and his mind stays dormant.

Which is good. He thinks.

  
  


Peter doesn’t really know how long they leave him like that, tied up to the metal surgery table and drifting in and out of consciousness. But he does know that everytime he woke up, his brain hurt and his eyes hurt and his throat was dry.

But they didn’t seem to be hurting the rest of his body any more. Sure, there were bruises and healing cuts but they were all bandaged up, like they were trying to preserve his body now and, God, didn’t that just make him nauseous. Also curious, because it wasn’t like they were taking extra special care of him before. Now there was someone bandaging his wounds and applying ointment every night, whether he was awake for it or not. And for one, it was a direct violation of privacy (but since when did these guys care about privacy?)

There are still two guards outside his door. Peter knows this because he can hear them talking to No-Name. He has some of his powers back too, even though they still don’t feel really like his. 

It takes three days of lying still and breathing for No-Name to take off his bonds. And he doesn’t really want to leave. Which scares him a little bit, but not enough to make him go. He doesn’t think he would even if he could. There were too many variables, and he’d probably end up getting caught again before he’d even escaped. Over before it even began, and all that shit.

No-Name likes to sit at the end of his bed (table?) and watch him. Sometimes, they’ll mark things down on a clipboard. If they’re feeling particularly emotional (and usually this happens after a soldier did something that wasn’t so pleasing) they would stab scalpels through Peter’s toes and fingers. 

Which hurt, sure. But they healed back up in about ten seconds. Which also hurt. And worried him, because it meant they were obviously doing  _ something  _ to him now, and he didn’t know what. Only that whatever experiments had been conducted, must have worked because Peter now has a healing factor to rival Wade’s. 

And if the price to pay for that is his own mind, then so be it. It’s not like he had any choice in the matter any way. 

Wade would probably be ecstatic when he found out that Peter had a healing factor like his. At least, that is if he still wants to see Peter when he gets back. If he gets back (he knows that, logically, Wade would never break up with him like that. But the unrealistic part of him is unravelling, and No-Name is fuelling it. Peter isn’t sure what he believes, and whether his thoughts are his own).

  


*

  


The quinjet is mostly silent. 

Well, as quiet as it can be with three dogs, a cat, and a Wade

Actually, Wade hasn’t been this quiet for a while. It’s something about the Deadpool suit. He hasn’t taken his mask off yet, or his weapons. 

Mostly because he likes the cold metal of his guns and the lightweight press of his swords. He likes being able to reach a pistol from virtually any position. And he likes being able to stroke his fingers over the barrel of the gun and tap his nail against the trigger. 

Clint is slumped in the corner, looking almost painfully sad. Tony keeps nagging him to get up and fly the jet because “Yeah, I know I can do it, but I also need to work on the satellite stuff, okay?” But Clint isn’t getting up and Wade considers slumping down next to him. 

He doesn’t when Natasha gets there first and he doesn’t listen to their conversation. Aside from the muttering that he picks up as he wanders nearer the front of the Quinjet. 

Isaac Mewton, who has curled up in Tony’s lap as he pilots the jet, perks up when he sees Wade. Tony hisses when the cats claws dig into his thighs. “Shit fuck, Goddamn cat, oh my God.”

Wade laughs. “Want me to take him?”

Tony turns to glare. “If you take this cat away from me, I will claw you myself.”

And that’s that, so Wade goes to find Cap. Steve. He isn’t sure exactly what he should call him when he’s in uniform anymore. Because the military terms kind of make him feel weird, but it also feels disrespectful to call him ‘Steve’ when he’s dressed up as his other persona and it’s all very confusing. 

At least with Peter it was easy. Well, easier. 

It was very obvious when he was Spider-man and when he was Peter. When he was Spider-man, he was in the suit  _ with the mask on _ . If he was Peter, then he was either in normal clothes or the suit with his mask off. That didn’t apply to Wade, because he’d answer to pretty much anything as long as it wasn’t derogatory. 

“Hey, Cap- Steve- Cap.”

Steve looks over to smile at Wade. “Hey. You okay?”

Wade nods, because why wouldn’t he be. Then shakes his head, because why would he be. “My head’s a bit fuzzy. Yours?”

Steve huffs a laugh. “It feels a bit like how I’d imagine intoxication to feel like.”

“You can’t get drunk? Woah! Snap!”

“Not since the serum,” Steve says. “I used to be a lightweight, back in the thirties.”

It’s kind of hard to imagine post-serum Steve as pre-serum Steve. Wade tries anyway, but he’s fairly certain that what he imagines is worse. “Well, alright, Sober Steve,” Wade says, and then louder “Does anyone have any cat food?”

Tony turns to stare incredulously at him. “ _ Cat food _ ?”

“Well, yeah. You have all sorts of unnecessary things on here. What’s the chance you have cat food too?” Wade says. He runs a leather gloved hand down Isaac’s back. 

Clint looks up. “I might have something.”

Tony looks confused. His eyes follow Clint as he unlocks a storage cupboard and roots inside it for a few minutes. “What is that?” He asks, when Clint comes up with a blue plastic lunchbox. 

Clint glances up. “Chicken salad.”

“How old is it?” Steve asks. 

Clint shrugs, and opens the box. 

He drops it almost immediately, gagging. Mr Tickles goes forward to investigate, sniffs the lunchbox and whines. 

“What the fuck is that,” Tony asks, staring at the lunchbox in mild disgust. 

“Um.”

“Its fucking alive,” Tony says. “Get it out of here.”

No one moves for a few seconds, all just staring at Clint’s lunchbox in horror. Then, Natasha steels her nerves, wraps her hand in Steve’s handkerchief and grabs the lid, slamming it on the box and then throwing it out the door. 

Thankfully, none of the FBI/CIA/NASA/vaguely terrifying agents notice the flying box of maggot salad. Which is good, because that would have been a hard one to explain. 

Tony grips Clint’s forearm and drags him into the cockpit. “Right. You are flying while I try to calm my heart down. Why the hell did you have that on here?” Isaac Mewton meows in annoyance as Tony stands up, sending the cat to the floor. 

Clint shrugs again, looking just as shell shocked as everyone else. He automatically puts his hands on the control board. Isaac Mewton growls at Tony, before jumping onto Clint’s lap and curling up. 

Tony sticks his tongue out at the cat. 

“You’re as bad as each other,” Wade mutters to Isaac, reaching out to pick him up off of Clint. “C’mon, Mewton, let Uncle Clint fly the jet.”

“Uncle Clint?” Clint asks, his mouth turning up slightly. 

“Oh, for sure,” Wade says, looking up from where he was rubbing noses with Isaac. 

“What does that make me?” Natasha asks. 

“Auntie Nat, obvi,” Wade grins. “Bruce is like, the long lost cousin.”

Bruce raises his eyebrows at that. “Long lost?”

“Well, yeah. Peter said you were lost for long because of that Ragnarok thing, right?”

“Peter knows about that?” Tony asks, sounding equal parts concerned and impressed. 

“Was he.. not supposed to?” Wade frowns. “Oops.”

“It wasn’t a secret, per se,” Steve explains. “But we hadn’t made an effort to explicitly explain it all. How did he find out?”

Wade taps the side of his nose. “Trade secrets.”

“Did he hack Friday?” Tony asks suspiciously. 

Wade’s silence answers for him. 

“Oh man. Oh my God. I knew he was clever, but I don’t- how?” Tony mutters to himself. “Jesus Christ.”

“Peter  _ hacked _ Friday?” Natasha repeats. 

Wade shrugs. “I dunno. I mean, maybe.”

It’s quite obviously a lie, and Natasha picks up on it. She frowns at him. “Sure.”

“You’ll have to ask him when we get to him,” Wade says. He scratches Mr Bump behind the ears.

Tony mumbles something under his breath. He stabs the mouse pad on his laptop sharply. “Steve, be a dear and get me some coffee, will you? I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

Steve complies, filling a plastic mug with a suction cup on the bottom with coffee from the built in machine (God, the jet really did have everything, didn’t it.) He hands it to Tony, who takes a deep drink, nearly draining the mug in one. Wade still doesn’t know how Tony does that, but he’s reluctantly impressed.

  


*

  


Tony was right, it was a long night. Wade spent most of it wide awake, cleaning his katanas or loading and unloading one of his guns. Natasha watches him carefully. Wade flicks his eyes up and registers, with an uncertain amount of surprise, that she looks impressed. He turns his attention back to unloading the gun again.

She reaches out and snags one of his smaller knives, weighing it in her hand and spinning it between her fingers. Wade’s eyes follow the knife, half worried about her and half worried about the knife.

“These are nice,” she says finally, spinning the knife once more between her index and middle finger and then jabbing it into the seat Wade is balancing his guns on. 

“Are you supposed to do that?” he asks, glancing at the knife and tugging it out.

“Probably not,” Natasha shrugs. “These are nice. Balance is good,” she says, prodding the other knife he had out. “Where’d you get them?”

“Brought ‘em,” Wade says. “Where else?”

“I meant who made them. There’s no company logo or anything.”

Wade shrugs. “I got rid of it.”

“How?”

“Black market acid. Or something. You must have seen the burn mark on the handle.”   


Natasha hums. “Black market huh?”

“I’m not all kitties and rainbows, you know,” Wade says, sheathing the two knives and pulling out one of his katanas.

“What’re they?” Natasha asks.

“What do they look like? They’re swords. Famous Deadpool weapons, and bullshit. You must have read my file. I’m about ninety seven percent certain I have one somewhere in the SHIELD databases. Although most of it is probably incorrect,” Wade turns his eyes away from Natasha, focusing on the sword (Bea).

“I have read your file,” Natasha says, unabashedly. “I used to believe most of it.”

“You don’t anymore?”

“Not after I’ve seen how you actually are. Can I hold one?”

Wade shrugs, holding Arthur out to her. “Knock yourself out. Well, try not to, actually.”

“I do know how to handle weapons,” Natasha says, taking the katana gently

“Mhm,” Wade agrees absentmindedly, losing himself in running a finger over the blade. He accidently slices a paper cut thin gash into the pad of his finger, and blood wells up in little spots. It stings, for a quick second, and then Wade just watches as the skin pulls itself closed. It’s grotesque, in a mildly fascinating way- even if Wade has seen it a million times. Hell, he’s watched as his body put itself back together after being torn in two. Now that wasn’t a fun night.

He pulls his gloves back on as soon as the little cut starts scabbing over. Natasha didn’t need to see his mutation in action just yet. Besides, she works for SHIELD. She’d probably try to get blood samples and all sorts of fun stuff so they can operate on him. And there was no way in all of the nine realms that he was going to let that happen again.

Natasha balances the katana in one word, mouth working silently. “Its so..”

“What?”

“Lightweight,” Natasha says in awe. “Balanced. It’s incredible craftsmanship.”

“Well, I didn’t get them just for the aesthetic,” Wade says. Well, he sort of did. Okay, no, he got them because they were fabulous, fully functioning weapons and the fact that they made him look awesome was just an added bonus. A really great bonus.

Natasha chuckles, quietly. She does everything quietly, which unnerves Wade a little bit. But it’s also really quite cool, how she can practically disappear and no one sees her leave. “I can appreciate a well made weapon,” she says. “I’ve never actually used a sword though. Knives, for sure, and guns and everything. Never something like this.”   


“Well, you’re not stealing mine,” Wade says, only slightly sounding uncomfortable. The only other person who had held his katanas this long was Peter, and he trusted Peter with his life. Natasha, not so much. And he was getting a bit of separation anxiety (which was a bit embarrassing, let’s be honest. But, however psychopathic it sounds, his swords were his safety blanket. Of sorts.)

Natasha picks up on it. How Wade expected her not to, though. “Here,” she says, handing Arthur back to him. “They’re really nice.”

Wade takes it back eagerly, running his fingers over it in a not-so-subtle way. Even if Natasha wasn’t a spy, it would probably be blatantly obvious that he was checking the sword over - much the same as a mother would check her child. Which was also a bit embarrassing. 

He sheaths them both, relishing in the almost silent  _ shiiink s _ ound each one made as it slid into place. Natasha smiled at him and stood up, presumably to go talk to Clint. Little Miss Sunshine stands up with her, and trails Natasha to the cockpit.

Tony takes Natasha’s place next to him. “I could make you something better, you know.”   


“I know,” Wade says. “Wouldn’t want you to though. Sorry.”

Tony shrugs. “That’s alright. Maybe another day. I could make them shoot lasers.”   


“I’m fifty eight per cent certain that Peter would be able to do that too.”

“Got me there. I think he’s smarter than me, but I don’t want to do an IQ test. I don’t think my ego could handle being told that he’s definitely the cleverest.”

Wade grins. “Peter wouldn’t want to risk your ego being hurt, so he’d probably refuse anyway.”

“True. He’s too nice for his own good.”

Wade doesn’t reply. Instead, he focuses on sliding all of his weapons back into their proper spaces on his suit. It doesn’t take this level of concentration, but not concentrating would mean probably talking to Tony, and Wade doesn’t know how much he wants to do that right now. Mr Bump stumbles over to dump his head on Wade’s leg, making him laugh. And then manly shriek when the momentum causes one of his knives to fall. He catches it just before it nicks Mr Bump.

“Fast reflexes,” Tony comments.

Wade hums, tucking the knife away and then letting his gaze slide over the haphazard pile of all their belongings. It sort of finalises it. This is it. They’re going. Going to find Peter. Save Peter.

Wade’s hearts stutters with a mixture of nerves, apprehension and excitement. His fingers twitch, and he does his best to suppress the urge to ask to go home. He couldn’t go home, because the house was probably overrun by law people, and that was never a good thing when it came to Wade and Wade’s job. He was fairly certain that the Avenger would bust him out if need be, but he didn’t really want to risk it.

Also, Peter needed him. Who knows what state they’d find him in, and if Wade wasn’t there, he’d probably have a fit. In fact, the only person Peter would be semi comfortable around (other than Wade) was Natasha. Peter could hold a grudge like nobody’s business, and they hadn’t really left on the best of terms with Steve and Tony. If Peter was still able to think clearly enough, he probably wouldn’t want to be around those two too much. Which left Nat, Wade, Clint and Bruce.

Peter wasn’t overtly close with Clint, or Bruce. Not like he was with Wade and Tony and Steve. (His family, Wade’s brain supplies helpfully. Wade’s heart clenches again). Natasha because she had helped Wade and, also affectionately known as Peter’s Spider-Mom. Which was nice, and cute and Nat never let anyone other than Peter call her it. Wade had tried once and almost lost his balls after.

Wade hears himself sigh, heavily. Tony mirrors him.

“Have you found anything on the-” Wade gestures to Tony’s laptop, which is balancing on his knees.

Tony shakes his head. “I have to patch into the right camera signal. So far, I haven’t found it.”

“How will you now when you’ve found it?”

“Because we’ll see where Peter is being held, and I won’t see random people doing.. Things.”   


“You accidentally walked in on someone having sexy times?” Wade gasped.

“Not my fault. And I didn’t walk. Besides, who leaves their webcam on when having private time?” Tony scoffs.

“Maybe because they don’t expect people to be hacking into their webcams,” Steve suggests, grinning at Tony.

“Amateurs,” Tony mutters. “Its basic internet safety that you cover your webcam. Don’t they teach people anything these days? Webcams are so, super duper easy to get inside of, and you can get loads of info from them. People can be so careless, and stupid.”

“Like I said, they don’t expect people to hack their webcams, Tony,” Steve repeats, grinning. “Its not really seen as a normal thing.”

Tony sighs. “If I didn’t hack them, I wouldn’t be able to find Peter.”

“Keep hacking then,” Wade says.

“Hey, we got a destination yet?” Clint asks from the pilot’s seat. “Or are we going to a safehouse, or a random patch of grass somewhere, or SHIELD HQ? Any suggestions?”

“Anywhere but SHIELD,” Natasha says. “They’ll try to stop us. It’ll go better if we do it just us, as our team.”

“No definite location yet,” Tony says. “I’m looking as fast as I can.”

“Just hover for a while,” Steve suggests. “If you want, find a supermarket and we’ll stock up on food.”

“Good plan, Stan,” Clint murmurs. 

“Why don’t you set it to automatic flying and then we can sleep, or eat, or plan,” Tony says. “We should definitely sleep.”

Natasha grins at Tony. “Well, if you’re that tired.”

Tony glares half heartedly at her. “I can’t sleep yet. Bruce go sleep, since you’re the one who has to take over doing this once I pass out.”

“I’d really rather if I take over before you pass out, Tony,” Bruce says. “Why don’t you link it to my laptop, too? Then we can both work it and it’ll get done quicker.”

Tony frowns in consideration, then smiles. “Good plan, Brucie! Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You’re probably more tired than you thought,” Steve says. He rubs one of Tony’s curls between his fingers (it makes Wade a little bit homesick. He could be fiddling with one of Peter’s curls soon).

“I’m fine for a bit longer. The coffee is kicking now.”

“Just make sure you sleep enough to be on your A game, okay? We’ll need as much as we can get. We have no idea how tough these guys are, but they managed to capture Peter, and he hasn’t been able to escape yet,” Steve instructs.

“So either they’re exceptionally good at kidnapping people,” Wade says, “Or they have all the right tools to keep a spider trapped.”

”I don’t know which one’s worse,” Tony muses. “There you go, Bruce, you should have the same data.”

Bruce nods, opens his laptop and starts typing away almost instantly.

Everyone falls into near silence after that. Clint moves away to go back to the cockpit, Isaac Mewton following him. Natasha roots around in the pile of their stuff, undoubtedly looking for more weapons, Miss Sunshine at her feet. Tony and Bruce tap away at their laptops, making almost identical face expressions. Steve produces a bit of paper and a pencil and starts sketching out attack formations (but then he gets distracted and starts drawing Tony instead.)

Wade just sits and fiddles with his katanas again (safety blanket, remember?) and waits for either Bruce or Tony to get a match.

  


*

  


It happens nearly half an hour later.

Tony’s breath hitches and he starts typing even faster (which Wade thought was impossible). Then he breathes out for a long time and says “I’ve got a hit.”

Steve comes to stand behind him instantly. Wade peeks round to see the screen, which is showing camera footage of Peter.

He’s in a cold looking, white room, sitting on what is obviously an operating table. It makes Wade shiver. Peter doesn’t look tied up, although there are obviously cuffs and restraints attached to the table. His eyes are blank, though, which frightens Wade the most. It looks like Peter’s lost his ability to see as himself, like his brain has been dragged out through his nose like Egyptian Mummies.

“Where is he?” Steve asks.

“One sec,” Tony replies, breathing the words. Everyone is suddenly stock still, barely breathing. Tony’s typing ceases. “I’ve put the address into Friday,” he says. “We’re on automatic flight now. We need to come up with a plan.”

Wade has only ever seen Team Leader Tony once, but its impressive. Very different to Cap’s leadership, even if he can’t explain how. Natasha and Clint sit so they’re all in a sort of circle, Steve pulls out the paper he had been making battle plans on and Bruce closes the lid of his laptop a little bit. Tony leaves his computer open, and Wade finds himself periodically glancing up at Peter, even if it doesn’t look like Peter.

Wade sort of tunes out as the others plan around him. It’s a terrible habit, really, but he did it in the military too. And then he got yelled out for his problems with authority. Which, yeah, he can’t really argue with. He’s accepted that he can’t listen to people to save his life. Even if it is to save his life.

It’s not like he needs to worry about saving his life anymore, though. So when there’s a lull in the conversation and Clint is about to snap his fingers in front of Wade’s eyes, he says, “Can’t we just go in, guns blazing? Some bad ass song and explosions in the background. Like something out of a superhero movie.”

“We are a superhero movie,” Clint says. Fair point.

Natasha shakes her head. “We can’t, that’d get us killed. Or Peter killed.”

“Wouldn’t get me killed,” Wade says.

“No, but getting Peter killed would kill you,” Tony says. “Were you listening to any of that?”

“I was actually singing the Nyan Cat song in my head,” Wade says.

“So do you know the plan?” Steve asks. “This is important, Wade.”

“Yes, yes, I know the plan.”

“What is it?” Steve asks.

“You’ll send Nat in first, to scope out the place. Then Tony will take Clint and deposit him somewhere high up. Then you and Tony will reconvene on the ground and prepare to blast inside,” Wade says. He sounds bored, which wasn’t really on purpose, but they’ve been arguing over this for what feels like decades.

“And what about you?”

“I have to sneak in while you and Tony distract them, and go find Peter. Nat will come find me as soon as she can and then once everyone outside has been taken care of, Clint will come join us too.” That wasn’t actually the plan. But it was, admittedly, better than what Steve had come up with.

Steve seems to realise this. “That wasn’t- actually, that’s the plan now. That was pretty good.”

“You’ll have to put the jet on lockdown,” Wade says. “There is no way I’m having these guys out on the battlefield,” he scratches under Isaac Mewton’s chin.

“I wasn’t going to let them out either,” Tony says. “We’ll have to park it a mile away. Not too far, incase Peter needs immediate medical attention.”

They all turn their gaze to Tony’s laptop screen again. Peter doesn’t look like he’ll need physical medical attention, but the haze in his eyes says otherwise. Wade is the first to turn his eyes away. Something about seeing Peter so obviously vacant makes him jittery and sick to his stomach.

“What about Bruce?” Steve asks.

“Bruce is going to be staying here, guarding my pets. Unless we need the Hulk. In which case, the safe word is banana chip,” Wade says.

“That isn’t actually the cue for a Code Green,” Steve says. “You do know the actually word, right?”

Wade nods. Of course he knows it. He isn’t entirely incompetent. “Yep. And if we need Dr Banner, then the code word is frozen peas.”

Steve looks like he’s about to protest. Then he doesn’t, he just sighs. “How far out are we?”

“Not far,” Tony says, glancing at the map on the console. “About an hour and a half. If anyone wants to get some shut eye, I’d recommend to now.”

“You should sleep,” Steve says, nudging Tony. “You all should. At least for half an hour.”   


“What about you, Captain?” Tony asks, already sounding sleepy.

“I’m not tired. I can last a bit longer,” Steve says.

“Well, I’m napping,” Clint announces. “Wake me up in half an hour.” He falls asleep seemingly instantly. Wade is a bit jealous.

Natasha curls up to Clint’s side. “Wake me then too.” And then she’s asleep as well.

Tony drifts off, and then Bruce, until Wade and Steve are the only ones awake.

“If you want to sleep too, Wade, you can. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Wade shakes his head. “I can last.”

Steve nods, and Wade is a bit surprised to find he isn’t arguing.

  


*

  


Steve wakes everyone forty five minutes later. They spend thirty minutes gathering weapons/armour/locking the Quinjet, and then fifteen sitting in silence waiting for it to land.

  


When it finally does, Wade is the first one out. They line up by the side of the jet, watching as Natasha sneaks forward.

Wade doesn’t register how long she’s gone for, but then the communications device in his ear crackles and she says “Clear.”  


So they all start forward, tiptoeing and being super-sneaky spies. 

Then Wade falters, his heart in his throat.

  


Peter is standing there, looking just as empty as the video feed, dressed in protective gear that fits him perfectly, holding a gun in one hand and a knife in the other.

  


**_  
_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. chapter nine. oh man. 
> 
> im not overly fond of this chapter. its a bit dull, especially having to write more then half of it in one setting, with all the same characters. i somehow managed it, though. so let me know what you think!
> 
> i knowww, no bucky. i'm sorRy i just.. keep.. forgetting. so many characters to write. so sorry. he'll be back in the epilogue.
> 
> the reason this is going up earlier is because i managed to finish chapter ten last night. i didn't want it, you know, sitting around on my doc for ages and ages so i just decided 'to hell with my sort-of-schedule!' and here we are. chapter 10 (last chapter holy shit) should be going up on the 17th. at least around then. for now, i have to work on the epilogue.
> 
> i wrote about 4k in one sitting yesterday, no break at all. then i read other fanfic for about half an hour. then i had a headache for about an hour afterwards because there were so many words rattling around in my head. dont do that. however, if you want me to check out your fanfic, or if you have any recommendations, please do feel free to leave them in the comments!
> 
> i also want to make it known that if this fic inspires you (why would it, lets be honest) to make fanart, or a spinoff, or a playlist inspired by it or WAHTEVER then please do it! i dont want to limit your creativity, and frankly id be honored. 
> 
> so yeah, im off to take a short break from writing this fic. like, three days. then ill back into the epilogue, and then chapter ten, like i said, should be up on the 17th.
> 
> take care, xox


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peter is back. sort of. 
> 
> also, i introduced shuri, and ava, and ava’s team. because peter needs more friends (and i like torturing myself. when i will i realise that i hate writing big groups of people)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big shit happening

The best way to describe it, Peter thinks, is like cotton candy. His brain has been turned into melted candle wax and spun around till it doesn’t even feel like his anymore. Everything feels muted and fuzzy, but he’s still there. Just not all of him.

His door is slammed open at some point, Peter can’t recall when, and they inject him with more of the green tea sludge. It makes his bones weak and his eyes heavy for five seconds but then he feels energised and ready to comply.

No-Name keeps muttering to himself, things like “should have waited,” and “why are they here?” Peter doesn’t register what it means, or what No-Name’s tone means. There’s no way the people would be for him. Wade had abandoned him, Steve and Tony probably hated him and the others were probably not bothered. It’s not like he was any help, really, on the team.

The green potion was taking the form of a snake in his mind, slithering in and out and planting ideas in his head till Peter couldn’t tell the difference between what was his and what wasn’t. It was confusing, to say the least, but not like he could actually do anything to stop it.

No-Name pulls him up by the arm, although he didn’t really need to. Peter would have stood up anyway. He wanted to, even if he wasn’t sure why. They keep hold of his wrist, squeezing till it’s almost painful, and pull Peter out of his room. The hallway outside is just as dark as he remembers, grimy and green and mouldy and Peter’s eyes burn as he goes from stark, bright, white to dingy grey.

They pass more metal doors with heavy locks on, much like Peter’s, but no one comes out of those. No-Name sees him looking and grimaces.

“Yes. You weren’t supposed to be the only one,” They say, glaring at one of the doors. “Everyone else died. Everyone else is dying. Weaklings. You were the only one to survive, our serum took to your blood instantly. If it hadn’t, you would be a pile of burning flesh right now.”

As if that makes Peter feel better. Not that he’s really feeling anything right now. The snake has sort of taken over, and all his human feelings have been pushed to the back of his mind. There’s a heavy fog of mundane confusion and fear. But the snake puts them on the backburner, so the primary emotion he’s feeling is, well, nothing.

Its weird, not feeling. Peter always used to think he knew what numbness felt like. But he didn’t, because this is completely different. Its numb, its nothing, its an empty black hole in the middle of his chest.

“Of course, if we had the time, we would have done more tests and made sure you were safe. We don’t want anything happening to you, do we, soldier?”

In the back of his mind, Peter shudders. The snake suppresses it.

“Obviously,” No-Name says, “We’ll have to assume you’ll be fine. You have your new healing factor now, so it should keep you well enough to fight them.”

“Fight who?” Pater manages to ask.

No-Name laughs, high pitched and reedy. “Well, the Avengers! Who else? They must have come for you after all.” They twist their left index finger in Peter’s hair. “Shame there’s no ‘you’ left, though.”

 _Yes there is!_ Peter wanted to scream. _I’m here!_

He couldn't, though. Now No-Name was leading him into a wide, long room lit with fluorescent lights that hurt his eyes. The walls were covered in guns and armor and all kinds of combat weapons. Peter felt sick to his stomach.

No-Name pushes him onto a wooden bench and claps their hands twice. Four guards line up beside him instantly. “Go on,” No-Name says, “Collect his weapons.” The guards scatter, digging through the guns and bombs and knives.

A guard hands him a gun (why? He could easily take charge and shoot everybody. Not that he would. He might not be himself, but saving everyone is still his main goal. His moral compass would not be swayed). Another guard loops a string of bullets over his shoulder, hooks a bullet proof vest over him and tightens it. Yet another slides a dagger into Peter’s other hand. Not that he knows how to use it, but there’s basic knowledge somewhere in his mind.

He doesn’t remember learning how to fight with a dagger though.

He’s surprised to find that the gun and dagger perfectly fit in his hand. It was a little unnerving, but Peter lets it slide. The poison snake (Peter decides to name him Billy) takes over control of his hand and squeezes it against the gun. His finger teases the trigger.

“In our ideal world,” No-name says, “We’d have you practise using your weapons. As it is, we don’t have the time. I’ve implanted the basics for each weapon in your head so you’ll know how to use them. I’m hoping enough of your so-called spidey sense has remained so you can dodge whenever anyone shoots at you. You’re going to go out there, and protect us and our base. You are lower in rank then anyone here. If someone asks you to do something, you do it, no questions asked.”

Peter really doesn’t want to agree, but Billy makes him nod anyway.

“Good,” No-Name says. “I’ll have one of my soldiers take you out there then.”

No-Name’s hand is replaced by one of the guards. The guard has evidently no qualms against hurting him, because the grip stings his wrist.

“Bye bye, now,” No-Name says, grinning.

 

  
The guard pulls Peter past well organised lines of soldiers running to and from. They all seem to converge outside, which is where Peter’s heading.

When they get outside, the guard leaves him. “Stay here. You fight for your family. We are your family.”

No, you’re not, Peter wants to say but he can’t, _you will never be my family_.

Then everything freezes, because Wade, Steve and Tony are all standing fifty odd metres away, dressed in their suits.

Everybody’s brains seem to come back online at once, because that’s when the shooting starts.

*

Wade’s heart jumps into his throat and chokes him.

Tony dives away and up into the air as soon as a spray of bullets almost hit him. Steve throws his shield at the main offender and runs to catch it until both of them are of different sides of the battle ground and its just Wade staring at Not Peter. He thought he’d be used to it, used to the dull haze in Peter’s eyes but he’s really not. Staring at the camera feeds in the Quinjet have done nothing to prepare him for it.

Part of him wants to run up to Peter and hug him until all the broken pieces are together again, but Peter’s holding a gun and knife (in an alternate universe, Wade would say its really quite attractive. He never gets to see Peter holding a gun. But now is not the time).

“What did they do to you, baby boy?” Wade mutters to himself. Peter takes a step forward and cocks the gun, so Wade does the same, stepping closer and cocking his own gun.

“I have orders to kill you,” Peter says. His voice is just as blank as his eyes. It sounds like him but not like him and Wade’s heart just about breaks in two.

“If you were going to kill me,” Wade says. “You would have done it by now. You wouldn’t have told me, either. Now I know what you’re going to do and I can stop you.”

“You cannot over power me.”

“You can’t kill me. Thought you knew that, honey bunches.”

Peter’s eyes flicker with recognition for a second until they’re back to cold and unfeeling. “Pointless nicknames waste time.”

A second is all Wade needs. “Petey? You still there?”

“The subject is not there. Only me.”

Wade gets more and more desperate because Peter is there. “I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to help you.”

“I do not need help.”

“Peter needs help.”

“The subject does not need help. The subject believes you do not love him. The subject will not accept help. We must kill all of you.”

Okay. Definitely, one hundred percent not Peter. Even though Wade had kind of come to that conclusion already. “You know, Petey wouldn’t really like that. He doesn’t like people dying, you know? Respect the wishes of your host and all.”

“The subject doesn’t matter. They deserve to die.”

Wade tosses his gun in his hand before swapping it for a knife. “You know, I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“That is what makes you weak,” Not Peter says, and then he’s firing a bullet. (Shouldn’t be hot, shouldn’t be hot, shouldn’t be hot.) It hits Wade in the left shoulder, and yeesh. Ouch.

“You should get a hand on your temper, man. That hurt,” Wade grumbles, but the wound is closing already. “Its basic knowledge that I have to return the punch now, though. Sorry, sweet pea.”

“The subject has been enhanced. He will not be harmed.”

“Sweet! You have a better healing factor now? That’s awesome!”

“It is not sweet. We will kill you now.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Wade asks, dancing out the way of another bullet. “Like, seriously, if you were going to kill me, why would you stall so long? It sort of seems like Peter has a stronger hold on his mind then you think. And you know, I’m not gonna kill him, but I don’t think he’ll let you kill me either.”

“It does not matter what the Subject will let me do. I will do it anyway.”

“Oh, honey, I don’t think so,” Wade says. “I’d advise you to get out of his head now.” He levels his gun with Peter’s head, which makes his stomach turn. “I’d do anything to keep him safe. I know where to aim to keep him alive.”

“You will have to kill him to save him.”

*

This place is disgusting, Natasha muses, shooting another bullet to take out another guard. Its kind of funny how underwhelming her battle is. None of the soldiers are any good at holding their own, and she has no qualms against killing. There are trails of bodies, all leaking blood, behind her. Her shoes trek blood through the halls. Not that it’d make a difference, the green-y brown interior is already coated in what looks like old blood, and mold and other dried fluids. It smells dark and damp and gross.

Natasha isn’t a stranger to gross, though, and she clicks another round of bullets into her gun before shooting them all at the people guarding what look like cells.

The doors are all metal, which is a big difference from the green walls, and padlocked with large locks. Easy.

She kicks aside one of the guards, which spatters blood against the wall and her hand. She wipes to blood on her leg, and assesses the lock. Terrible, really. Terrible security. She’s in in under a minute.

Its white, and bright and smells like antiseptic. It tickles her nose. There’s a body tied to a metal surgery table, bloody and beaten. If she was a weaker agent, it would have made her sick. But Natasha is experienced, and strong.

She takes the body’s pulse, determining it female, and cuts through the wire holding her down to the table. The girl seems unconscious, or asleep, but she moans quietly when Natasha brushes a finger tip over one of the cuts on her abdomen.

“Sh, sh, sh,” Natasha whispers, even though there’s nobody to hear. She’s killed them all. “Its okay, I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Where is he?” The girl asks, sounding panicked. “Has he been looking for me?”

“Who?” Natasha frowns, as warning bells go off in her head.

“My brother!” The girl frowns back. “Do you not know who I am?”

“What? Do you know who I am?” Natasha asks. “And who’s your brother?”

“My brother! T’Challa!” The girl cries desperately. “And of course! You’re Black Widow!”

“T’Challa?” Natasha repeats, delving into her mental library. “King T’Challa?”

“Yes!”

“You- You’re Princess Shuri?”

“Yes.”

Natasha exhales heavily. “Okay. Can you sit up?”

The girl does, with a well covered cringe. But Natasha’s a spy. She notices these things.

“Does something hurt?”

“Everything hurts,” Shuri says, sounding half sarcastic.

“Okay, alright. You can call me Natasha. I’ll give as much med care as I can and explain everything.”

“Okay.”

Natasha pulls a roll of bandage out of a pocket. “So, do you know Tony Stark? Steve Rogers?”

Shuri nods.

“Okay, what about Spider-man? Spider-man is their son and he got kidnapped by the same people who’ve kidnapped you. I came here with my team and Spider-man’s boyfriend to rescue him. The rest of my team, the Avengers, are currently fighting outside. I came in here to get the stragglers and see if anyone needed my help.” She tapes the bandage over the largest cut, on Shuri’s left bicep.

“Why not with my brother?”

Natasha shrugs. “I don’t know. We haven’t contacted him since the Civil War. I don’t even know if he knows you’ve been kidnapped. How long have you been here?”

Shuri shrugs. “A few weeks?”

“About the same as Peter then,” Natasha mumbles.

“I heard them talking about someone called Peter,” Shuri says. “He’s Spider-man, right?”

Natasha purses her lips and nods.

“Yeah. They called him the subject a lot. Injected him with some sort of poison, or something. I don’t know what it does. But he was in the room next to mine.”

“Can you walk?” Natasha asks.

Shuri frowns, but stands.

“Fight?”

Shuri shakes her head no, “Probably not. I will stay here until the battle is over.”

Natasha hums. “Okay. I’m gonna go check out Peter’s room, see if there’s anything that might help us. I’ll see if there’s anyone else in the other cells. If there is, I’ll put them in here with you, is that okay?”

“Good plan.”

“Here, I have a spare communications device,” Natasha says, digging through a different pocket for it. “Put it in your ear. Its hooked onto the frequency my team is using, so you’ll be able to hear if they say something and vice versa. If you need me, or any one, just shout.”

“Shouldn’t you warn your team about this?”

“Yep,” Natasha says, and puts a finger to her ear. “Avengers.”

“ _Something to report, Widow?_ ” Steve asks.

“Yep. I’ve found the cells. There’s a girl, Princess Shuri of Wakanda-”

” _Well, shit_ ,” Tony interrupts.

“Exactly,” Natasha says. “I’ve given her my spare comm. I’m going to check out the other cells. If there’s other people in them, I’m going to put them in with her. I’m going to leave my med supplies and everything too. And a gun, just in case. She, like I said, has my comm so if she needs anything, she’ll call in.”

“ _Let me get this straight,_ ” Clint says, “ _The princess of Wakanda? Why hasn’t anyone from, you know, Wakanda come to find her?”_

“I wish I knew,” Shuri says, putting the comm in her own ear.

“ _Alright, Shuri- can I call you Shuri?- we’ll get you out and home soon_ ,” Tony says, before getting cut off by a loud explosion sound. “ _Shit!”_

“You may call me Shuri,” Shuri says.

“ _You okay, Iron Man?_ ” Steve asks.

 _“Peachy, lover_ ,” Tony says gleefully. “ _Rice bombs work a treat.”_

“ _You actually brought those with you?_ ” Steve sighs.

“ _Uh, yes?_ ” Tony says.

“ _You owe me some firewood,_ ” Wade says, adding to the conversation for the first time. “ _Also, if anyone can find out just what they injected Petey with, I’d be very grateful.”_

“I overheard them talking about some kind of poison,” Shuri says. “I didn’t hear much else, but it was meant to enhance him.”

“ _Definitely enhanced,_ ” Wade grunts. “ _He’s dodged all of my hits even quicker then he would before. He has some kind of enhanced healing factor too. He’s not himself, at all. Like his brain has been taken over.”_

 _“I haven’t studied brainwashing much, but it definitely sounds like that poison or whatever it was, has some sort of mind control element,_ ” Bruce says.

 _“Well, I’d really like to know how to get Peter back. I think he’s definitely there, because he shows some recognition when I call him a nickname or something. He’s trying to fight it off, but he can’t. Or he can’t hold it off for long enough,”_ Wade explains. “ _Shoot, gotta blast. He’s pulled out some grenades._ ”

“ _Don’t hurt him!_ ” Tony yells.

“ _Okay. We should get back to concentrating,_ ” Steve says. “ _If anyone has any news, then just speak up._ ”

“Okay,” Natasha says once everyone has, for want of a better phrase, ended the call, “I’m going to check out the situation in the other cells.” She dumps her two rolls of bandage, the pack of bandaids, antiseptic wipes and medical tape on the floor next Shuri. “If you need anything, if anything goes wrong, call for help.” Natasha puts one of her guns on the floor. “I’m assuming you know how to use one.”

“I do,” Shuri says. “Admittedly better quality ones, but for your resources, this is alright.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Don’t leave this room.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Shuri says, listening to the sounds of combat from outside.

Natasha nods once, before slipping out of the door. She spend five minutes rearranging the lock, to make it look like no one’s been there, should someone who wasn’t her come along.

 

There’s only one person alive, a girl named Ava. She tells Natasha that she has powers too, and that she’s teamed up with Spider-man once before.

“I used to work for SHIELD,” Ava explains, as Natasha leads her into Shuri’s cell. “With Nova, Power man, and Iron First.”

“Do they know you’re here?” Natasha asks, unlocking Shuri’s door.

Ava shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“What are your powers?” Natasha asks.

“Cat like, basically,” Ava says. “My superhero name is White Tiger. Who’s this?”

“This is Princess Shuri,” Natasha says.

“Just Shuri,” Shuri says. “Was she the only one?”

“Everyone else is dead,” Natasha says shortly. “You’re both going to stay here until outside is safe, okay? Ava, can you access your powers?”

Ava shakes her head. “I’m too.. Weak.”

“Okay. Here, Shuri has one of my guns and my spare comm. Fix each other up best you can and hold tight, okay? I need to go and help my team, but I’ll be back with help.”

“Wait,” Ava says, “Is Peter okay?”

“You know who he is?” Natasha asks. Ava nods. “He’s.. I don’t know his status right now. We’re working on it.”

“If you can, tell him that Sam misses him. He’ll know who it is, and it might jolt him back,” Ava says, with a soft smile.

“Hear that, Wade?” Natasha asks, making sure the comm will catch it.

“ _Got it,_ ” Wade replies, sounding breathless. “ _You got another one?_ ”

“Yep. Ava Ayala. Says she’s worked with Spider-man before. I’m leaving her and Shuri together.”

“ _Okay_ -” Steve starts to say, but he’s interrupted by Clint’s yell.

“ _Nat! Get over here!”_

“Clint?” Natasha asks.

“ _Hawkeye? What’s the issue?_ ”

“ _Sorry, Cap_ ,” Clint says. “ _Super spy thing.”_

“Okay, that’s my cue,” Natasha says. “Stay here until me or one of my teammates come, okay?”

“Okay,” Shuri repeats. “Go.”

“Clint?” Natasha asks, running out of the cell and bolting it behind her. “What’s up?”

“ _Need your help,”_ Is all Clint can gasp out before he grunts in pain.

Natasha tries to swallow down the shot of worry as she dives out of a second floor window and tucks into a roll. She just misses jarring her shoulder, but otherwise it would have been a perfect landing. She’s up on her feet and running instantly. “Where are you?” Someone shoots at her, so she shoots back and hits the guy in the forehead.

“ _Three hundred metres to your left,_ ” Clint says, and he sounds in pain.

“Jesus, Clint, what have you done?” Natasha mutters, veering to the left, and shooting another two soldiers while she does it. Their bodies fall to the ground with a dull thud and she doesn’t give them a second thought.

*

Peter’s shot Wade coming on ten times now. Which, yeah, hurts. Physically, mostly, because now his body has been pretty much consumed by the dull throb of after-healing-ache. But Peter hasn’t hit any important organs (or his dick) yet, so Wade knows Peter definitely has one hand on the wheel. Well, maybe not a hand. A finger tip, or two. Point is, Peter is still definitely there.

Then Natasha met those girls, and one of them told him to mention Sam. And Wade wasn’t sure to be jealous or relieved that it worked, but it made Peter halt for long enough that Wade could knock him out. So now he had to hope that one sharp whack on the head would be enough to set Peter right again. Or at least, right enough that he had like, seven fingers on the wheel, instead of two.

He had dropped Peter back at the Quinjet with Bruce, dodging all the remaining soldiers and their bullets. He was sort of glad that Natasha hadn’t killed all of them, because shooting soldiers really was quite cathartic. Wade preferred slitting their throats, though. Something about how warm the blood was as it dripped out of their necks was relaxing. And oddly beautiful. Having the power to control someone’s life force kind of helped him blow off steam.

Then Wade realises how dark and psychotic those thoughts are and shakes his head to rid himself of them.

Natasha, Tony, Steve and Clint (who’s leaning heavily on Natasha) are standing in the middle of the battleground. If it could be called that. The dirty, dusty earth is drenched in red blood, and thankfully not much of it seems to be theirs.

“How is he?” Steve asks, as soon as Wade is in hearing distance.

“Unconscious,” Wade replies. “With Bruce.”

Steve nods once.

Natasha glances back at the building. “We need to get Shuri and Ava.”

“Lead the way, then, Spider,” Tony says, gesturing with his gauntlet clad hand. He has the face plate flipped up though, and Wade can see how tired and worried he looks.

Natasha shifts her eyes to Clint, asking him a silent question. He nods, and they walk off together. Wade notices that Clint’s right leg looks mangled, and ugly. He doesn’t bother asking what happened. It’s kind of obvious.

“How are the dogs?” Wade asks Bruce, via comm.

“ _Good_ ,” Bruce answers in his ear. “ _Isaac Mewton is curled on Peter’s shoulder. The dogs are all sitting guard next to the cot._ ”

Wade smiles. Good. “Thanks.”

Natasha pushes open the door to the building, leading them inside. Wade just lets his eyes slide past all the bodies. They all have clean shots in their foreheads or chest, and it’s so obviously Natasha’s work. It’s so clean, it’s almost beautiful.

She leads them up a dark staircase (Wade feels almost sick at how dark the entire place is, actually. Peter was here). Clint stops next to a broken window.

“Did you..?” He asks, gesturing to it.

Natasha nods, a childlike grin sliding onto her face. Clint high fives her with a smile.

They continue on until they reach a corridor of metal doors that look entirely like they don’t belong in the building.

Natasha opens the first one. The lock has already been broken, and when the door opens, the two girls jump up.

“Natasha!” One of them exclaims, and Wade recognises the voice as Shuri. The other, Ava, just scans them as if she’s looking for someone.

She is, because she says “Where’s Peter?”

And Wade catches her eye. “On the jet. You Ava?”

Ava nods.

“The Sam thing worked. Thanks.”

Ava offers him a tentative smile. “Is he okay?”

“Peter’s fine,” Tony says, “He’s in Dr Banner’s care. I’m Tony Stark. You must be Ava and Shuri.”

Shuri nods. “Pleased to meet you, Dr Stark. Even if your tech is abysmal at best.”

Tony looks only vaguely put out. “I suppose, being from Wakanda, you’ll have some decent upgrades. You should come to my lab one day.”

Shuri grins. “I’d be delighted.”

“I’m a futurist,” Tony tells Clint’s shocked expression. “I can recognise when people are smarter than me. It makes me glad that the world will be in the hands of clever people.”

Shuri blushes. Or at least, Wade thinks she does. Natasha shoves her gun and what’s left of the med supplies in her pocket and interrupts, “We need to get Clint back to the Quinjet.”

Wade glances at Clint’s injured leg again.

“Right,” Steve says. “Tony, if you fly back to the jet with Clint, we’ll meet you there. I don’t think any of us are in need of urgent medical attention,” he lets his gaze sweep over everyone, assessing.

“Got it,” Tony says, offering his arm to Clint. “Strap in and prepare for take off.”

Clint winces as he limps over to Tony. “Hope there’s not too much turbulence.”

Tony doesn’t reply, just blasts off.

 

 *

Ava must have a steel gut, Wade thinks, walking across the grounds. The amount of decimated bodies would be enough to make anyone vomit. The smell alone of slowly warming death brought bile to the back of Wade’s throat. She runs her eyes over each body, as if assessing it, without even flinching. Shuri, on the other hand, just stares straight ahead, as if she’s had enough. She probably has.

They get back to the Quinjet, and Bruce has Clint and Peter lying on smallish medical cots. Clint keeps protesting and trying to sit up. One glare from Natasha, though, when she enters, has him flopping back down with a resigned sigh.

The dogs all run over to Wade, and then follow him to sit on Peter’s cot, even though there isn’t much space. Wade laughs when Isaac Mewton butts his head against Wade’s hand, and then curls up on Peter’s stomach.

“Isn’t having pets on a plane a health and safety violation?” Ava asks.

“My entire life is a health and safety violation,” Tony says, settling in at the cockpit and starting the engine.

Bruce comes over to run a finger over Shuri’s bruises. “How bad was it?” He asks.

“What do you mean?” Shuri replies.

“How bad did they hurt you?”

“Surface wounds,” she says, “Nothing a bandaid won’t heal.”

Bruce smiles. “You’re tough. Come on, you two, sit down.”

“Bruce is our very own medical doctor,” Tony explains as Ava and Shuri both take seats. Natasha goes to stand close to them and Wade almost does a double take because the only time he’s seen Natasha being maternal was with Peter.

Wade tunes out Bruce’s medical examinations, choosing instead to focus on Peter and how cold his hands are. “When will he wake up?”

“I don’t know,” Bruce says, turning with pitiful eyes. “We’ll be able to find out more when we get back. We’ll need to take brain scans and all sorts of samples that I can’t do here.”

Wade nods, and lets himself fall asleep for the rest of the flight. Isaac stretches between him Peter, mewling softly, prompting Wade to stroke him.

*

Peter doesn’t wake up for six weeks.

Wade spends six days a week in hospital, sitting next to Peter’s bedside. Bruce and Tony agree that Isaac Mewton can go too, but draw the line at the dogs. Natasha takes them back to the tower and looks after the three of them.

Tony managed to get in touch with T’Challa, who came to collect Shuri in person and take her back to the advanced medical treatments of Wakanda. Shuri made T’Challa promise to let her visit Tony and Peter whenever because she ‘wanted to upgrade the labs here’. Tony laughed, and T’Challa agreed grudgingly.

Natasha had contacted Nick Fury, who yelled at them all for getting one of his agents arrested, and going off on an unauthorized mission. He did bring Coulson with him, though, so Clint didn’t listen to a thing he said. Fury refused to take Ava back to SHIELD, so Tony was setting up a floor in the Avengers Tower for her and her friends, who they’d also managed to contact. Sam, Luke, Danny and Ava spent a few days a week at the hospital. The rest of the time was spent shopping for decor and criticising the new floor.

Wade spent his Sundays in the Avengers gym, or sitting in Peter’s bedroom on the ninety sixth floor. He kept fiddling with the red and blue sharpie, somewhat subconsciously.

Tony had apologised to him again, and so had Steve. Tony had brought him a two-tiered apology cake, too, so he, Luke, Ava, Danny and Sam were working their way through it.

Wade had struck up a friendship with the ‘New Avengers’, as they called themselves. It was mostly over Peter, but then Steve suggested movie nights, which is what he said brought the Avengers together. So they spent at least one night a month binging Harry Potter and Star Trek. They were saving Star Wars for Peter.

It was nice, in a sort of twisted way. Wade just wants Peter to wake up.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew!! this is like. last chapter. holy fuck. 
> 
> of course we have got the epilogue though, which ive decided to split in two. so we’ll get 2, 15k, chapters that are both epilogue. dont worry, im hoping that i can get the first one up by my birthday. (which is in 11 days?? holy fuck??). like a reverse birthday gift. 
> 
> dont worry. its a semi happy ending!
> 
> i HAD to include shuri and ava in this because i love them both SO MUCH. and you cant have ava without sam, luke and danny. so here we are, i guess. 
> 
> in case you couldnt tell, the italics are stuff being spoken over comms. i do the same sort of thing when its a phonecall. also; clints super spy business was just him getting hurt and being too embarrassed to tell the team about it. clint you fucking idiot.  
> comment what you thought! please?? theyre like sustenance to me.


	11. Epilogue Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first six months after peter gets home and wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fcking hell. hope you enjoy it.
> 
> (caution. this contains detailed descriptions of panic attacks. if that could affect you, please proceed with caution. i just want you to be safe. also, the februrary section deals with the matter of rape and sexual abuse, although not graphic. this section also has an (just one, right at the end) offensive slur in, if that bothers you.)

 

 

 

Wade tunes back into Bruce talking slowly.

“-No patrol, okay? Not for a while. We’ll need to keep you under surveillance for a couple of weeks, just to make sure you really are free of it. After that, you’ll be able to go back to Wade. But no patrol, nothing strenuous for a month or two.”

“Is there a chance what they did to me will have a lasting effect?” Peter asks, his voice all raw and scratchy from disuse.

Wade jolts to alert instantly. “Petey?!”

Bruce and Peter both turn to him. “Give me a minute, Wade, and then I’ll let you two have some time alone. I just need to take another blood sample.”

“Hey, Wade,” Peter says, somewhat shyly.

Wade grins, wide and bright and ear to ear. “Oh man, Baby Boy, you would not believe the day I had.”   


“Wait-” Peter says. He sounds painfully confused. “What? You- You’re- You  _ didn’t _ break up with me?”

“Uhh. What? Who told you that?” Wade asks. Now he sounds just as confused.

“The- The person. The one who..”

“Well, then they’re an asshole, Petey. I wouldn’t ever break up with you. Ever ever.”

“Ever?” Peter smiles despite himself.

“Ever,” Wade says, solemnly. 

Bruce glances between them, pockets the syringe of blood and says “Nothing strenuous, okay?”

Peter blushes bright red. Wade just laughs at Bruce’s back. 

 

OCTOBER

(a week after peter wakes up)

 

“Do you think Bruce will let me do Halloween?” Peter asks, browsing Halloween costumes on his laptop.

Wade looks up from where he’s throwing jelly cubes at the ceiling. “He better.”

“I’ll ask him,” Peter says, pulling out his phone. “Have you got a costume?”

“Yup. Do you? Its two weeks before All Hallow’s Eve, Spidey, you better.”

“Correction,” Peter says, grinning and turning to look at Wade. “Did you get any couples costumes?”

Wade grins. “Hell yes I did,” he abandons the jelly cube throwing in favour of running and leaping over the back of the couch to land next to Peter, who lets out a small ‘oof’ at Wade’s landing. “So, we have a box of Nerds-”

“No way.”   


“See, I thought that was a good one because you’re a dork.”   


“You’re a jerk,” Peter mutters, nudging Wade fondly.

Wade grins. “Alright, how about Harley Quinn and the Joker?”

“Toxic,” Peter says. “Nope.”

“Homer and Marge Simpson?”

Peter actually considers this one, before shaking his head seven seconds later. “They’re all boring.”

“Okay,” Wade says, “How about a plug socket? I’ll be the socket, you be the plug.”   


“You just like the euphemism,” Peter grumbles.

“That I do, baby boy. Okay, I know. Stephanie and Sportacus from Lazy Town. I’ll be Stephanie.”   


Peter grins. “Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I like that.”

Wade grins back. “Lets go costume shopping later.”   


“Oh-” Peter says when his text message chime sounds. “Bruce says I can! Tony always does massive Halloween parties, I’m allowed to go as long as I don’t drink or get into fights or stay out longer then midnight. God, a curfew.”

Wade snorts. “Tell him I’ll have you home by then, Cinderella.”

“Will do,” Peter says, typing out a message and then going back to his laptop. “I’ll order those costumes later, then.”

“Perfecto,” Wade says, in a faux Italian accent.

“Hey, are we ever gonna go back to Al and everyone?” Peter asks, “I’d like to see th- Isaac Mewton!” He cuts off with a whine as the cat tramples over his laptop keyboard, opening three new tabs.

Wade laughs again, kisses Peter’s forehead and goes back to throwing jelly squares on the ceiling.

 

*

 

Peter is running around like a headless chicken, dressed in his blue Sportacus costume. Wade is lounging on the couch, wearing Stephanie’s. It only just fits. 

“Should we bring something? No, Tony probably doesn’t need anything. But should we?” He mumbles, half to himself.

“Pumpkin, Tony will just want you to be there,” Wade shouts from the living.

Peter stops suddenly, and stands half in the kitchen, half out. “Do you think its too soon?”

“Think what is too soon?”

“This! Me! Will they even want to see me?”

Wade frowns, turning to look at Peter, who looks lost and confused and a little bit scared. “Why would they not want to see you?”

“I- I don’t know!”

Wade rolls off the couch with a thud, and hurries round to scoop Peter up in his arms. “If you want to stay here, we can.”   


“I- No, I want to go,” Peter says. “I want to go, right?”

“I can’t tell you that, honey bunches.”

“Wish you could,” Peter grumbles.

“Nah,” Wade says, “Wouldn’t want to take away your free will like that.”

Peter mumbles something unintelligible into Wade’s chest. 

“You sure you want to go?” Wade checks.

Peter nods.

“Alright, sweetums,” Wade says. “Hop on.”

Peter frowns. “Isn’t Sportacus meant to carry Stephanie?”

“Screw the system,” Wade tells him, “That’s sexist,” so Peter laughs and lets Wade pull him onto his shoulders.

Peter’s glad Tony built his tower with extra tall doorways (it took approximately three head shaped holes for Tony to clue into the fact that Thor was about ten feet taller than any of them), because it means he doesn’t bump his head on ceilings. Well, his hair brushes a stray jelly cube (how is that still up there?). 

“Wade, why is there jelly on our ceiling?” 

Wade glances up, pausing on his way to the elevator. “Oh. I was bored the other day.”

Peter grins, relaxes and lets Wade carry him over to the elevator. 

 

*

 

The party is busy in the way that all of Tony’s parties are. There isn’t too many people, just the Avengers, the Fantastic Four and some of the X-Men. Pepper’s there, and a couple of the Stark Industries representatives, as well as a few (no more than five) news reporters scattered around.

“Heeeeeeeeeeey!” Tony half yells in Peter’s ear, “Happy Halloween!”

“Are you drunk already?” Peter asks, grinning over the music. “Hey, nice costume, dad!” Tony’s dressed in an intricate skeleton body suit.

“You too,” Tony says, grinning.

Steve is a pumpkin.

“Tony! There you are,” he says, “Come on, we have to introduce ourselves to the people from CNN.”

“Nice costume, pumpkin pie,” Wade says, grinning at Steve.

“Oh, hi Peter, Wade,” Steve says, turning away from Tony. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks, pops,” Peter say, “Um- where’s dad gone?”

Steve turns around, frowning. “Darn. I’ve got to go find him, I’ll catch up with you later?”

“See ya, pumpkin spice,” Wade says.

Steve walks off in a way that looks so utterly comedic that Peter almost falls off of Wade’s shoulders from laughing so hard. 

“We should go see who else is here,” he says to Wade, leaping down onto his own feet. “Hey, look, is that Professor Xavier?”

Wade looks where he’s pointing, and squeals. “Oh my gosh! It is! Look, he’s Humpty Dumpty. My life will never be the same.”

“Wanna go say hi?”

“Um, yes, because I need a picture of this. For science.”   


“Blackmail?” Peter asks.

“Science,” Wade repeats. “Also blackmail.”

Peter grins, leading them over.

Wade gets distracted by the preposterous amount of fancy, Halloween-y foods spread out among tables. He disappears for a minute, darting off to Peter’s left and then re-appearing two minutes later on his right, laden with finger food.

“Hungry?” Peter asks, raising his eyebrows and the insanely large volume of food Wade is balancing in his arms.

“Yup,” Wade crunches on a finger of shortbread.

“Could of eaten those jelly cubes on our ceiling,” Peter grumbles, and then louder, “Hi, Professor! Nice costume.”   


“Mr Parker, Mr Wilson,” Charles Xavier greets, spinning around in his wheelchair. Jean Grey (dressed as Jessie from Toy Story) wanders off, and is promptly pulled over to a group of X-Men and Johnny Storm by someone Peter only recognizes as Cyclops.

“Hey Charlie,” Wade says, through a mouthful. Peter jabs an elbow into his stomach. “Ow, Spidey, what did I do this time?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Peter says. “How are you?” He directs at Xavier.

 

*

 

The music gets progressively louder until Peter feels claustrophobic. There’s always someone by him, and he finds himself sitting sandwiched between Clint and Natasha. Coulson is sitting opposite Clint, and Wade opposite Natasha.

Natasha is dressed as a cat, complete with steel claws on her finger tips (which is impressive, and Peter keeps grabbing her hand and running a finger over them). Clint is a ghost, with a sheet with two holes cut out of it. Coulson is James Bond, and Clint says its because he just wanted to wear a suit. 

Wade keeps jabbing his foot into Peter’s shin. “Ooh! I love this song!” He exclaims suddenly, jumping up as ‘Monster Mash’ comes on. “I’m dancing!” He promptly runs off to the dance floor.

Peter follows him with his eyes, until he inevitably loses Wade in the crowd.

“Hey,” Natasha says, nudging him. “You alright?”

He turns to her and nods, reaching out automatically for a melon ball decorated like an eyeball, just for something to occupy his hands. Nat just stares at him until he sits back.

“Sure?” She asks.

Peter nods again, and then does his best to suppress a flinch when there’s a loud drumbeat in the song.

She just narrows her eyes at him, because Natasha is a spy and there’s no way she would have missed that. “Come on,” she says, grabbing Peter’s forearm and dragging him up.

Clint looks at her, and apparently, one look at Natasha’s eyes is enough because he turns his attention back to Phil.

Natasha drags Peter over to the elevator, and pushing him inside. She follows, and asks, “Where do you want to go?”

Peter just slides down against the metal wall of the elevator, till his chin rests on his knees. He suddenly feels like he has jellyfish tentacle legs, and his throat is closing up. He tries to draw in a breath, but it gets stuck somewhere in the inhale so he chokes, instead.

Natasha slides down next to him, rubbing a comforting tempo on his shoulder. “Answer honestly, are you okay?”

Peter just shrugs, trying to blink back the tears. He doesn’t know if they’re from the panic attack or the air stuck in his lungs.

“Okay,” Nat says, “What do you need?”

Peter opens his mouth to try and choke out a word, but he can’t and his lips freeze around the word.

“Tony?” Natasha suggests, “Steve? Bruce? Wade?”

Peter nods.

“Wade?”

He nods again.

“Okay. Stay here,” Natasha says, patting his shoulder. “I’ll go get him, yeah?”

Peter just nods again, trying to ignore how his trachea feels like it’s pulsing. He doesn’t really want Natasha to go, but that god damn snake is still in his head and whispering that ‘She just doesn’t want to deal with him’ and Peter knows he shouldn’t force her to.

Natasha squeezes his shoulder again, before standing up and disappearing back into the crowd. 

He closes his eyes once she’s gone, and leans his head back on the wall. Tears dribble down his cheeks, and he couldn’t prevent them if he tried. He doesn’t know how much time passes before Natasha is back, with a silent Wade following behind her.

The elevator doors open with a soft ‘shooosh’ and then a larger, rougher hand is rest on his shoulder and a larger body mass is next to him.

“Petey?” Wade whispers, and Peter hopes that its Wade because he’s the only one who calls him that.

Peter leans into Wade subconsciously, feeling warm and soft engulf him in a way that his painfully familiar. “Wade?” He asks, quiet and small. “Are you- are you really here?”

The elevator walls flicker between elevator and grimy, green warehouse and it really messes with his head. His eyesight is still uncomfortably blurry and tears are still swim down his face.

“Are  _ you _ here?” Wade asks, turning his question back on him. 

The elevator walls flicker again. “Maybe,” Peter answers, and his voice is so faint, even though it pounds through his head like a thunderclap.

“What can I do to help?” Wade asks, sounding unnaturally calm until Peter finds the tremor in his voice.

Peter shrugs, and chokes back a sob.

“Okay, baby boy,” Wade says, “lets try something. I’m gonna say all of your nicknames, and you’re gonna hold onto them until it brings you home, okay?”

Peter doesn’t feel himself nodding, but he must of done, because Wade starts reciting all of the nicknames he calls him. 

“Baby boy. Sweetums. Snookums. Baby. Babe. Honey pie. Pumpkin.”   


Peter just tunes everything out until he can only hear Wade. The elevator stops flickering between here and there. 

His tears dry up and then Peter can breath again, so he says “How do you remember all of those?”

Wade smiles, leaning forward until their foreheads touch. “Magic, baby boy. How do you feel?”

“Like an obese cow just trampled all over my lungs.”

“That good, huh? Wanna go rejoin the party or head home?” Wade asks.

“Home home, or tower home?” Peter asks.

“Tower home, I’m afraid. We have to find a new home home because we accidentally called the FBI or NASA or some equally scary government agency there,” Wade says, “That was a crazy day. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”

“Lets go tower home, then,” Peter says, “Is Al okay? Is everyone okay?”

“Al’s fine, Petey. Everyone is, promise. Lets go, then.”

Wade holds out a hand when he stands up, which Peter takes gratefully, before collapsing against his chest. Wade chuckles softly, and then the elevator is moving.

 

*

 

They’re up in their room and curled up on the bed before long. Wade has the TV on, and is flicking through nature documentaries while Peter tangles his legs around Wade.

“Tired?” Wade asks, turning down the volume as he says it. 

Peter doesn’t respond, just groans and buries his nose in Wade’s neck. 

“You alright, sunshine?” Wade asks, lowering his voice too. 

“I’m sorry for ruining Halloween,” Peter says. “I know you were excited.”

“Um, what? You? Ruin Halloween? In your dreams, Petey Pie. I couldn’t care less about Halloween right now.”

“But still,” Peter says. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with me and my brain.”

“Peter, please. I’m your boyfriend. Your shit is my shit. And besides, what sorta guy would I be if I didn’t help you when you have a panic attack? Besides, you just got back from like, a month of fucking torture. You’re allowed to have bad days.”

“Yeah, but this was the worst day to have a bad day. I’m sorry for wasting your time. You could have been having fun.”

“Are you trying to tell me that watching my guy cry isn’t fun?” Wade asks. He turns his head to reach Peter’s, and kisses him candy floss soft. “You’re not a waste of time, okay? I love you. Now go to sleep, Sportacus.”

Peter smiles. “Night, Stephanie.”

 

NOVEMBER

  
  


“What’s your opinion on zebrafish?”

Its Wade’s birthday in twelve days (also Thanksgiving, and Wade is ecstatic that they fall on the same day). And Peter doesn’t have  _ any  _ idea what to get him. What do you get your infamous, mercenary-turned-good, sometimes Avenger boyfriend for his birthday? Yeah, Peter’s never had to buy a present for someone like that either. 

They’ve decided (read: Tony decided) that lunchtime was for Wade’s birthday and dinnertime was for Thanksgiving celebrations. Tony demanded to see Peter (and by extension, Wade) for Thanksgiving and Peter had initially refused until Steve came up a compromise. 

They were both expected home by seven in the evening, so Sam and Bucky could serve the turkey for half past seven. Peter had booked a meal for two in a four star restaurant for one in the afternoon, so hopefully they’d be done in time. 

“Zebrafish?” Wade repeats, jarring Peter from his thoughts. 

“Yeah. Zebrafish.”

“Well,” Wade starts. “I think they’re a bit selfish. Like, dude, you can’t be both fish and zebra right? Just choose one. But they’re pretty cute, you know? Like, have you seen them? With their little faces and stripes and zebra fins.”

Peter hums. “Cool.”

“Why?” Wade asks. “Say, Spidey, you’re not getting me a zebrafish, are you?”

Peter minimises the fish shop website as quickly as he can without looking suspicious. 

 

*

 

“Daaaaaaaaaaad,” Peter whines into the phone. 

“Peeeterrrrrrrrrrr,” Tony replies, in a tone that is dripping sarcasm. 

“Don’t mock me,” Peter says. “I need your help. Where are you?”

“Its Thursday, Pete,” Tony say, as if that explains anything. 

“So?”

“ _ So _ , its date night.”

Peter gags. “Yuck. Please don’t make me think about my parents like that. Thanks for being useless.”

“Nice to hear you too, Peter!” Tony sing songs, and Peter hangs up. 

He slams his phone down on the kitchen counter and then puts his head in his hands. 

“Petey? Whats goin’ on, honey bunches?” Wade asks, trailing a finger tip over Peter’s shoulders and then reaching up to get a glass from the cupboard.

“Nothing,” Peter says, then, “Its nearly your birthday.”

“Don’t remind me,” Wade says. “Actually do. Birthday sex?

“Birthday no,” Peter says into his hands. “I have no idea what to get you.”

“Wrap your dick in a bow and meet me in bed?”

Peter groans again. 

Wade laughs. “Okay. What’s actually up?”

“I don’t have your present,” Peter says. “And I don’t know what you want.”

“I don’t want anything,” Wade says, running a hand over Peter’s shoulders again. 

“But I can’t not get you anything!”

“You don’t need to get me anything. Stop stressing, Pete. You have that meal booked, and that’s enough. Besides, its Thanksgiving too, and that’s present enough.”

“I can’t stop stressing!” Peter yells, his voice breaking. “I just want it to be perfect,” he whispers and Wade feels his heart breaking.

His heart shatters when Peter sobs into his arms, though. “Baby boy, hey. Listen, come here.” Wade pulls Peter into his arms, and Peter goes reluctantly. “What brought this on?” Wade whispers into Peter’s hair.

“I just want you to have a good day,” Peter mutters. “You’ve had so many shitty days because of me, and now I just want this to go perfectly for you.”

“As long as you’re there,” Wade says, tilting Peter’s head up to look in his eyes, “As long as you’re there, it’ll be better then perfect.”

Peter’s eyes fill with tears again, and Wade can feel them soaking through his shirt as Peter buries his face in Wade’s chest.

“I love you,” Peter says, and Wade pretends not to hear the last part, “its okay if you don’t love me back.”

He kind of regrets killing all of those fucking kidnappers, because he would give anything to go back and stab a few of them again.

 

*

 

Neither of them wake up until eleven on Wade’s birthday, when it’s too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. They kiss in bed until midday, when Peter slides out of bed and forces Wade into the shower (who only goes if Peter goes too).

They’re fifteen minutes late to Wade’s birthday meal, but the restaurant holds the table anyway.

“Happy birthday,” Peter half whispers, reaching for Wade’s hand and kissing each knuckle. Wade just smiles at him over the top of the wine glasses.

They don’t talk until the food comes, instead filling the silence with hand squeezes until everyone else feels light years away.

When the last dish is placed on the table, Wade clears his throat and asks “so, where’s my zebra fish?”

And Peter laughs so hard, he chokes on a four star noodle.

 

*

 

After, they go for a walk in Central Park. There’s four hours to kill before they’re expected at the Tower, so Peter figures there’s no harm in dragging Wade to the ice rink in Central Park for a bit.

“Isn’t it my birthday, sweetcakes, shouldn’t I be choosing where we go?” Wade rambles, but he doesn’t stop Peter (even though they both know he full well could). “So, where are you taking me?” He draws in a sharp breath, “Ice skating? We’re going ice skating. You took me ice skating.”

Peter turns back and grins. “Happy?”

Wade answers by lifting Peter off his feet and spinning around. Peter doesn’t even mind the eyes staring at the two of them. “I think I love you more then I did before.”

“How much did you love me before?” Peter asks.

“Hm. A million,” Wade says decisively.

“A million loves?”

“Well, now its a million and one loves, baby cakes,” Wade says. “You took me ice skating.”   


“Well, we aren’t even skating yet. Come on.”

Wade is actually terrible at it, so he spends most of the time on his knees and devotes it to trying to pull Peter down too. He only succeeds once, because every other time Peter felt/heard/saw him coming and managed to skate away in time. 

It’s fun, in the best way possible. Even if Wade’s jeans have dark, cold wet patches on the knees and Peter has a tiny cut on his cheek bone from his own skate (which he has no idea how he got. But suspects it was Wade, who got the tiniest bit excited and somehow managed to pull Peter’s leg up and topple them both).

“Ice cream?” Wade suggests, as they pass a Baskin Robins. Peter shakes his head.

“Too cold,” he says.

“Hot dogs?” Wade asks at the next hot dog vendor, which is only a block away. Oh, New York.

“Later,” Peter says.

They get to a churro stand, and Wade turns to Peter with wide eyes. “Please? It’s my birthday, Petey, you have to be nice to me.”

So Peter grumbles and hands over a ten dollar bill, in exchange for two churros and five minutes free from Wade’s incessant begging.

“Thank you, Spides,” Wade says, licking his fingers clean of cinnamon-y churro dust. And then Peter decides that the kiss Wade gives him after is maybe worth it.

(Its so worth it.)

Then Peter says “Wade, we can’t have sex on a rooftop. That counts as a criminal offence.”

Wade pulls away from Peter’s neck with a pout. “Where, then?”

“Tonight,” Peter says. “Promise.”

“Promises, schomises,” Wade says, but he pats Peter’s hair down all the same. “Only ‘cause its my birthday, and I don’t want to get arrested on my birthday.”   


“I don’t want to get arrested ever,” Peter mutters.

“Where are we going now?” Wade asks, when Peter takes his hand again.

“Tower. Its six, so we might as well go now and see if they need any help with anything,” Peter says.

“Too nice for your own good,” Wade mutters, stealing another kiss.

(Peter finds them a dark-ish alleyway for half an hour, till Wade makes his knees weak and they make out in the darkest corner).

 

*

 

“Best birthday ever,” Wade announces, as Peter hands him the cupcake he just brought.

“Really?” Peter smiles through slightly worried lips.”   


“Uh, duh? We went ice skating, and got churros, and then made out in a dark alleyway- which, by the way, doesn’t even scrape the top ten for weirdest places I’ve kissed someone- and now we’re getting cupcakes and about to get Thanksgiving dinner with the Avengers. Why wouldn’t it be the best?”

“Well, you haven’t seen your zebrafish yet,” Peter says, laughing when Wade squeal.

 

*

 

“You’re early,” Tony says as the elevator opens to Wade and Peter. Everyone has congregated on the communal floor. Sam and Bucky are in the kitchen, Steve is there too, keeping an eye on the vegetables in the slow cooker.

Wanda, Scott, Rhodes, Thor, Bruce, and Stephen Strange (since when was he friend not foe?) are sitting in the living room, chatting and mixing drinks. Wanda and Strange appear to be seeing who can make a better drink with magic.

Pepper is sitting at the breakfast bar, tapping away on a laptop. Peter feels his heart clench in sympathy. Business won’t stop for nothing.

“Figured we could make ourselves useful,” Peter says, “Hey, dad.”

Tony wraps an arm around Peter, somewhat absently because he’s distracted by a chime on his tablet.

“Whats that?” Peter asks, pointing at the notification.

“That is the rest of our guests,” Tony says, pulling away from Peter. He taps on the tablet, patching into the comm signal. “And a very good evening to you too, Quill,” he says, “Park her on the helipad, alright? I’ll send some one up to get you.”

“Quill?” Peter asks.

“Guardians of the Galaxy,” Tony explains. “We’re also expecting Johnny and Sue Storm, and Reed Richards. Jessica Jones was invited. Who knows if she's coming.”

“Sue and Reed!” Wade exclaims. “Good afternoon, sir,” he says to Tony.

“Happy birthday, Wade,” Tony says.

“How do you know Jessica?” Peter asks.

“How do you know Jessica?” Tony asks back.

“I know every vigilante in New York,” Peter says, “We’ve teamed up a few times. ”

“Peter!” Steve exclaims, interrupting, turning his head away from the slow cooker. “How are you, son?”

“Good, pops. You saw me this morning.”

“Actually, we saw you at one o’clock, when you rushed off to fuck knows where, without so much as a ‘see you later’,” Clint says, tugging Coulson into the room. “Happy birthday, Wilson.”

Natasha follows the two of them, tucking a gun back into the holster on her thigh. “Hi Peter. Hi Wade. Happy birthday.”

“I might have to make it my birthday every day if this is the sort of attention I get from it,” Wade says, “Do I want to know what you three were up to?”

“Target practise,” Natasha says, “Phil was the target.”

“I almost had a heart attack about seven times,” Clint says, wrapping his fingers around Phil’s wrist.

“Well, it looks like he’s still breathing,” Wade says.

“Oh, fuck off,” Clint says, and then pulls Phil off in the direction of the nearest bar.

 

*

 

About an hour passes (which they fill by playing board games, until Jessica turns up and almost gets hit by a monopoly house). Then Steve yells for everyone to sit down, and Bucky is carving the turkey and Tony pours drinks, and Peter feels properly in his body for the first time since he got home.

The meal goes without a hitch (if you don’t count Clint throwing a drumstick at Johnny Storm- who ‘flames on’ and burns it to ash- a hitch. Thor finds it hilarious).

The Guardians are surprisingly good company, even though everyone starts referring to Peter as Parker, and other Peter as Quill. Wade just keeps calling him increasingly embarrassing nicknames, so that’s alright.

Jessica Jones doesn't really talk to anyone, which is unsurprising. She makes an exception for Natasha and Gamora, and Wanda and Stephen both make an effort to include Jessica in their conversations, though, which is nice, really.

Ava and the rest of her team don’t turn up until dessert (“Good timing,” Tony grunts).

“Ava!” Peter exclaims as soon as she walks. “Sam, Luke, Danny! What are you doing here?”

“Its Thanksgiving, dumbass. We’re celebrating,” Ava says, “Also, saying hi to Wade. We’re his best friends.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” Peter says, turning accusatory eyes on Wade.

“You’re my boyfriend,” Wade says, “which is one step above best friend.”

Peter hums in agreement. “Its good to see you guys,” he says. “When did you get talking?”

“Back when you were asleep,” Nova says, “‘Pparently, the memory of me was enough to snap you out of it.”

Peter frowns. “No way, really?”

“Yes way,” Wade says, sounding minutely happier about it then Peter does. “I hated it too.”

Peter giggles, and then Tony brings out dessert. And so does Bucky, and Sam, and Wanda and Peter almost feels sick at how much there is.

 

*

 

All the dessert does get eaten. They were feeding multiple super soldiers slash gods slash ordinary people with extraordinary metabolism.  Wanda makes everyone hot chocolate afterwards, her super secret recipe that only Peter knows, in case something happens to Wanda and they need emergency super secret hot chocolate.

Tony puts on ‘La La Land’ and Sam Wilson makes a barely concealed noise of disgust. Tony sticks his tongue out and curls up on Steve. Bucky wraps an arm around Sam and Clint flops on top of Phil.

“When did that happen?” Wade asks in Peter’s ear, gesturing to Bucky and Sam.

Tony’s ears prick up, and he turns. “Today, actually. Bucky broke a dish, got china shoved up under his arm, and after Sam was done chewing him out for not mentioning it for half an hour, they angry-kissed and then got medical attention.”

“That’s such a love,” Wade says.

“How many loves?” Peter asks.

“Not as many as you,” Wade replies, and Peter only just understands, pressing a kiss to the underside of Wade’s jaw.

 

*

 

“I had the perfectest of perfects day,” Wade says, tugging his shirt off before climbing into bed with Peter.

Peter shuffles around. “You haven’t seen nothing yet.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Wade asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Peter frowns, and then reaches over for his nightstand. He digs around for a minute, before pulling his arm out and throwing a yellow-ish, cylindrical tub at Wade. “Here, go check the lounge table.”

Wade studies the tub. “Is this-?”

“Go.”

“I just got into bed,” Wade grumbles, but he does as he’s told. Peter listens out for the squeal of excitement.

“You did get me a zebrafish!” Wade yells, “You are officially a million and seven loves!”

 

DECEMBER

 

As soon as the first of December comes around, Wade is practically vibrating with excitement. 

“Petey, Spidey, Pete, Peter, honey bear, snuggle buns, baby cakes, baby boy-”

“What, Wade?”

“Christmas!”   


“Not for another twenty four days.”

 

*

 

“Please tell me you aren’t one of those people who don’t do anything Christmassy until Christmas eve,” Wade says, crunching a taco. They’re out with Ava, Sam, Danny and Luke, and Peter’s school friends Ned, Harry and MJ.

“No way is he,” MJ says, “He’s a Christmas dork. But he won’t do anything about it until two weeks into December.”

“Wait, you are a Christmas person?” Wade asks. 

“I guess?” Peter mumbles, stealing one of Wade’s tacos.

“Why didn’t I know this? Petey, we have no Christmas decorations! This is the perfect opportunity to go ball shopping!”

“Excuse me?” Ava says, frowning. 

“Baubles,” Peter explains. “You could have gone.”

“Without you? No thanks.”

“You were waiting for me?” Peter grins. “Seriously?”

Wade shrugs. 

“Why?” Peter asks.

“Because I’m a good person? I don’t know, Spides, just wanted to go with you.”   


“Oh. Well, we should invite Al, and Marisa for Christmas.”

“We’re having a party in May,” Wade says.

“We’re what?”

“You’re what?” Ned says.

“Yep. I told George, the not-so-supermarket guy,” Wade says.

Peter grins. “I want to go back.”

“I already told you, we can’t go back to that house because the super not so secret agencies of the US have their eyes all over it,” Wade says.

“Uhhh, what?” Harry frowns. “This sounds like a story I wanna hear.”   


“It’s really not,” Peter groans. “Lets just say the Avengers are fucking idiots and leave it at that.”

“Got that right,” Sam grumbles, biting down hard on a tortilla chip.

“The Avengers are trying their best,” Danny says.

“We’ll be better Avengers,” Ava says, and Peter grins at her.

“Anyone else feel like they’ve missed something?” Ned asks.

 

*

 

Christmas time with the Avengers is quite the event.

Tony is rarely home in the evenings. He and Steve are invited out to an immense number of annual Christmas parties. Although Steve rarely goes, choosing instead to stay at home with Peter. 

Tony is, however, home on the fifteenth. In fact, nearly everyone is.

So Peter announces, “Christmas tree. Let’s go.”

And Wade squeals.

“Oh, we have one in storage somewhere,” Tony says, pointing nowhere in particular.

Peter frowns in disgust. “No. We’re getting a real tree.”

Tony grunts and grumbles and protests, but he gets shoes on and a coat on without needing to be forced. Peter grins (Tony is acting like a two year old) when Steve picks him up and carries him into the elevator. 

“So?” Tony asks, once he, Steve, Peter, Wade, Clint and Natasha are situated in the largest car he owns. “Where are we going?”

Peter falters. “Oh. I- I don’t- I’m-“

“Petey?” Wade murmurs, right in his ear. “Not a problem. Google maps was created for a reason.”

“Son?” Steve asks, turning around in his seat. “You alright, Pete?”

“Yeah- Yeah, Pops. I’m fine,” Peter says, concentrating on how his heart rate has suddenly sped up from fast to worryingly fast. 

Wade must notice, because he leans down to press his ear against Peter’s chest. Peter feels him frown. “You sure you’re up to this, honey bun? You’re pounding out, like, a rap beat in there.”

“W-What? Of course I’m fine! Of course I’m up to it!” His voice steadily rises until he’s shouting, even if he doesn’t know why. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Peter, calm down,” Tony says, turning around too. Natasha and Clint are staring too and it makes Peter’s skin prickle and eyes fill with unexplained tears. 

“I- I am calm!” Peter yells. 

“Baby boy,” Wade whispers. “Come on, come here.” He’s being pulled into someone’s chest and he can’t remember if it’s Wade or someone else, so he flinches away just in case. Whoever it was lets him go without fuss, and then he feels unbearable cold. 

The car- is it a car?- flickers around him, just like the elevator did. Peter unplugs the seatbelt and scrabbles around on the seat, scratching at what he thinks is a window (it could also be the lock on his cell door. He’s not really sure at this point). His breath comes in short and shorter bursts, making him feel all types of light headed but he has to get out - has to has to has to. 

_ You can’t escape your own head _ , something in his brain says, and he vaguely remembers the snake from before. Billy. Or whatever it was called. Billy, probably. 

Billy hisses so loud its like a scream, jarring Peter’s ears. He brings his hands up to dig into his skull, pressing his fingernails against his temples in the hopes something stops. 

Nothing does, so he keeps pressing until he feels warm blood trickle down onto his neck. There are tears too, and he can’t remember when he started crying. 

The door is still locked, though, but he can figure it out. Right. Right? He has to.  

“Peter! Peter!” Someone’s calling him, but its got to be No-Name, or whichever other asshole villain decided to kidnap him today. It blurs into:

“Spidey! Spider-man! Of course we know who you are! We’ll make a soldier out of you yet, don’t you worry.”

And that blurs into: got to get out before they kill him. 

(So naturally, Peter decides the best course of action is smashing the car window. So he does so, when he’s next back in the car. Punches his fist right through it- smash - and then he dives right out of it, landing in a forward roll in the garage.)

He cut his stomach on the jagged edge of glass on his way out, and the landing jolted them deeper. It hurts and oh shit- thats blood. 

The car doors all slam at once (too loud too loud. Please don’t shoot me) and then five people are kneeling around him. 

“Baby boy, you fucking idiot,” one of them mutters. Wade, Peter’s half lucid brain supplies. Wade. Safe. “Come on, Petey, why’d you do that? See, normally, I’m all for spontaneous jumping out of cars. But not like this!” Wade’s hands flutter over his stomach and he says “I’m gonna need to touch you for this, okay? Please don’t punch me, because then you’ll feel uber guilty. And I don’t want you to feel guilty, okay?”

Wade. Safe. Peter’s brain repeats, so he lets Wade slide his hands under his back and lift him up slightly. The dull throb of glass shards is sort of nice, and he’s getting used to it. Peter holds onto that, and holds onto Wade. 

Steve holds out a hand, trying to grab his hand. His fingers brush Peter’s wrists, and Peter stiffens involuntarily. He feels himself pressing closer to Wade, even if it hurts more, and his muscles coiling. There’s a punch waiting in his arm before he’s ready to throw it. 

Steve backs off. He has his kicked puppy look on. 

Sorry, Peter wants to scream, its not my fault, I promise, I’m sorry. 

He must make some sort of noise, because Wade is sh-sh-shushing and brushing away more tears. “Come on, snugglekins. We’ve gotta get you up to Bruce. Gotta fix you up. Jumping out a car window, what were you thinking?”

Peter’s eyes have stopped flickering, now. He focuses them on Wade’s, slumping against his chest. It really does hurt. Impaling yourself with shards of glass was painful- who knew?

 

*

 

He wakes up in the medbay again. 

“Feels like home,” Peter coughs out, approximately a minute after he woke up. No one’s expressed any indication that they know he’s up, yet. 

“Sweetheart!” Wade screeches. “Idiot! Pumpkin! Stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid! Baby boy!” Arms throw themselves around him, warm and familiar. Peter brings his own hands up to fist at Wade’s sweater. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Peter answers. “I’m-“

“If you finish that sentence with sorry, then I will end you,” Wade threatens. 

“Okay, I’m not sorry then? I don’t know what happened. Panic attack, I guess. What time is it?”

“About five,” Wade says. “Same day, don’t worry. You were out for about two hours. Got you to the med people, they got all that glass outta you. Then they transferred you here and we’ve all been here ever since.”

“Two hours? All?” Peter frowns. 

“Yes, all,” Wade steps around to reveal more Avengers then Peter can count. And then some. 

“Uh, what?”

“It’s your welcoming party, duh,” Wade tells him. 

“I- okay. I was just wondering why Dad, Pops, Bruce, Nat, Clint, Phil, Maria Hill, Pepper, Ned, MJ, Harry, Ava, Sam, Danny, and Luke-“

“-And Thor. He’s investigating the vending machines,” Wade interrupts.”

“And Thor are all here?” Peter finishes. 

“Because we care, dumbass,” Tony says, stepping forward. He frowns. “And I’m sorry. For triggering something.”

“You what? It’s not- don’t apologise,” Peter frowns back. “Don’t apologise.”

“As long as you don’t start blaming yourself,” Steve says. He steps forward too, wrapping a hand around Tony’s and squeezing. “We’re all in this for you, and you thinking everything is your fault won’t help anything.”

“Also I’m really impressed that this is the first time you jumped out of a car. You’ve been home, what, three months? Well, awake for three,” Sam says, grinning. 

“Fuck off, Sam,” Peter mutters. It’s more endearing then he’d like it to be. 

“You should go back to sleep,” Bruce says. “It’s great that you’re up, but I would like you to get some more rest.”

“And you should trust Bruce. He’s a doctor,” Tony tells him.

Peter doesn’t really remember falling asleep, but he must have done. Besides, Wade’s arms were warm. And well, he was tired. 

 

*

 

“Christmas!” Is how Peter wakes up on Christmas morning. 

“Wade. Shut up.”

“Christmas, Petey.  _ Christmas _ .”

“Sleep, Wade. Sleep.”

“Presents,” Wade tries. 

“Nope.”

“Kisses?”

“Morning breath.”

“Coffee?”

“ _ Now  _ we’re talking,” Peter says, removing the pillow from over his head and sitting up. 

“Coffee is more important to you then kissing me?” Wade asks, sounding put out. But Peter can hear him fumbling with the coffee machine. 

“Coffee doesn’t get morning breath,” Peter says, half shouting so Wade can hear. 

“Oh, shut it, you,” Wade grumbles, depositing a wonderfully warm mug of coffee in Peter’s waiting hands. “Kiss now?”

Peter takes a long drink of too-hot coffee (he’s used to it. Doesn’t mean his tongue burns any less). “Kiss now.”

Wade does, leaning in and smacking his lips in an obnoxiously loud way. He kisses softly though, till Peter’s knees feel weak. He only just manages to not spill coffee on the bed. 

“Mer _ -ry  _ Christmas,” Wade mutters against his lips. “Presents?”

“Fine,” Peter says. “Come on then. Lets go wake everyone else too.”

 

*

 

Sleepy mornings are the best, Peter thinks, as Natasha curls her knees under her chin and Tony drapes himself over Steve. Everyone is still in pyjamas (as per Christmas morning tradition), and hardly awake. The entire floor smells like caffeinated coffee, and it smells like home. Peter attaches himself to Wade’s side on the couch, and doesn’t let go for anyone.

Tony (as was to be expected) brought an obscene amount of gifts for everyone. Peter gets a key to his own lab (!!!), which is glorious and gorgeous and full of state of the art equipment. He attaches the key card to the chain around his neck, the one with all his other keys. 

Steve gives him a new old camera. An Afga Isolette. “Its like one of the ones we would have used, back in the day,” he explains.

Natasha gives him a set of throwing knives. Not that he’s ever thrown knives before, but they’re pretty and shiny and Wade likes them. They must be good, because Wade keeps ooh-ing and aah-ing over them.

Clint gives him approximately nine arrows, tied together with string. It’s the thought that counts.

Then, Bruce says, “Peter? This isn’t going to be much of a present, seeing as you already own them. But the psych team in Medical and I have all decided that you’re probably stable enough to start looking after your pets again. It might actually help your recovery. So if you think you’re ready, we can set you up with your dogs and cat again.”

“Really?” Peter asks. “Wade? Did you know?”

Wade nods, grinning. “Yeppers, Petey. Brucie told me not to say anything though, in case you failed the psych eval. Although, now you get Isaac Mewton back, and the Mr and Mrs Men, and they can all be friends with Henry the zebrafish.”

“Best friends,” Peter says. “Can I see them now?”

“We’ll make Happy bring them over from the SHIELD veterinary after lunch, okay?” Tony says. “Bucky made breakfast, by the way. I was going to mention it but that was before I saw the hash browns.”   


“There’s hash browns?” Clint gasps.

“There was hash browns,” Tony corrects. 

 

*

 

Christmas with the Avengers isn’t necessarily normal (but really, what part of their life is normal?) but it’s fun. Wade has fun. He doesn’t stop grinning, actually, which makes Peter glad that he and his parent’s (all six of them) are all on good terms now. Even if it happened under not so good circumstances.

Clint and Wade start a food fight with leftover Christmas pudding. The dogs (who had arrived exactly when Tony said, and then had been let into the communal floor- albeit reluctantly. Tony had made several threats as to what would happen if any of Peter’s pets made a mess.) kept sniffing out pieces of the cake, and eating it, which was.. Not ideal. But it made them tired, and Peter ended up sprawled on a three seater couch by himself, with Mr Bump and Mr Tickle, and Isaac Mewton all lying on top of him. Little Miss Sunshine had gone to sit with Natasha. Traiter.

Steve made them all watch cheesy Christmas films. Tony and Peter both cried at ‘The Snowman’. Clint requested ‘Home Alone’, but spent the entire film curled up on Coulson’s lap (who was actually not wearing a suit, and looked utterly unrecognisable).

Wade shoved Mr Bump out the way and deposited himself next to Peter. Peter leaned against Wade habitually, and Mr Bump jumped up again to flop over Wade.

It was nice, in a totally abnormal way. And really, Peter didn’t want to be anywhere else. 

Christmas was good. Cuddling with Wade on the couch, and laughing when Clint messed up Natasha’s hair, and Natasha punched him in response, and watching Christmas movies with his family. Yeah. It was good. 

 

JANUARY

 

New Years passed, and Peter didn’t have a panic attack, like he did at Halloween. He and Wade went back to their floor (because it was Their Floor now) at six in the morning, and slept until midday. Then they made soup for lunch, and soup for dinner, and watched Doctor Who (as per Peter’s request) until an acceptable bedtime.

 

*

 

“Peterrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” Wade screeches in his ear, somewhere in the middle of January.

“Wade, shut up. I’m sleeping.”

“Its eleven, lazy bones. Come on, I have news!”   


“Good news?” Peter asks, cracking open an eye.

“Very,” Wade confirms, with a vigorous nod. “Listen. Iron Dad said that the Green Giant said that Ms Helen Cho in Medical said that you are in peak physical condition, and if we want to move out now, we can. Then Captain Dad America came and found me, and said that Iron Dad said that the Green Giant said that Ms Helen Cho said that the Psych Evaluators said that your sixth of January Psych Eval test results came back, and that your brain is still a little bit scrambled - but thats okay, because mine is too - and that moving out to somewhere like before might actually help you too. Or at least, a really super long vacation.”

Okay. That is big news. Peter sits up. “Really?”

“Yes, really. So I had Mr Jarvis Ceiling Voice put together a list of properties like the house from before but not exactly the same for us to go look at. And don’t you ever call me irresponsible, Spidey, because I remembered to have breakfast before as well.”   


“You know you can just call him Jarvis, right?”

“Right,” Wade says, “But that’s disrespectful. Anyway, get up, Petey Pie, because we have to go look at houses. If you want to. Do you want to?”

“I do want to,” Peter says. “Thank you, Wade. Give me ten minutes.”

“Nine minutes and fifty nine seconds, and counting,” Wade tells him. “Kiss.”

Peter leans up and pecks his lips for a second, “Now c’mon. Let me shower. We can’t go look at houses if I smell like sewers and sex and bed.”

“Nine minutes, forty eight seconds,” Wade reports, stepping back dutifully.

 

*

 

The first house is a ranch. ( check it out [here](https://www.landwatch.com/Madison-County-New-York-Farms-and-Ranches-for-sale/pid/25084865) ) 

Its big. And a lot of land. And the hose is nice, sure. But it’s big. Peter feels his heart sink even before they go inside.

“No,” Wade whispers in his ear, as they cross over the threshold. “Not this one.”   


“Definitely not,” Peter agrees.

 

*

 

The next one is a penthouse. In the city.

Which is great, yeah, because it means they’re closer to the Tower, and to Tony and Steve and everyone. But also not great, because Peter sort of wanted to be further away.

Wade can see his hesitation. “Not the one?”

“Its lovely!” Peter says, hurriedly. And it is. The penthouse suite is gorgeous. ( check it out [here](https://www.tollbrothers.com/luxury-homes-for-sale/New-York/91-Leonard)  ). Its just..  Not what he wanted. “I just don’t think its right. For us.”

Wade hums, so they go to the next one.

 

*

 

Peter doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much of New York before. 

“Third time lucky?” Wade whispers to him, in the cab on the way there.

Peter grins. “Hopefully.”

 

*

 

The third one is perfect. ( check it out [here](http://cdn.home-designing.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/white-lanterns-yellow-pillows.jpg), [here](http://cdn.home-designing.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/gray-loft.jpg) and [here](http://cdn.home-designing.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/08/tan-room-built-in-shelves.jpg%20)  ) 

Wade must hear Peter’s intake of breath as they walk in, because he jabs an elbow into Peter’s side and grins. 

“This one,” Peter says, before they’ve even looked around. 

“You sure?” Wade asks. 

Peter nods. “Definitely. I love it.”

The tour lady makes them check every room, just in case. Wade thinks Peter might start crying by the end of it. 

 

*

 

They move in at the end of the month. 

Peter can’t stop jumping up and down. He jitters, and shivers, at least once every minute. He looks like he’s about to start squealing, like a tea kettle. 

Wade tells him that. Peter punches him in the arm and goes right back to shaking. 

Natasha is helping. She drags in at least three (out of five) of their boxes, and dumps them by the door. Steve brings in the other two - the heaviest two. Peter seperates them into piles (Peter’s, Wade’s, and Trash Can). 

“We need to go shopping,” Peter says. 

“Oh, Spidey. I thought you’d never ask!”

 

*

 

“Man,” Wade says. “I love Sweden.”

“This isn’t Sweden,” Peter says. 

“Best I can do. Ikea is Swedish,” Wade tells him, poking Peter’s nose with a finger and then jumping into the shopping cart.

“Dammit, Wade. Get out of there,” Peter says. “I need the space to put our new dishes. And our new cutlery. And our new lamp- Wade, we don’t need a new lamp.”

“We always need lamps, Spidey. Just this one. Please? We can get your cutlery too.”

“We’re getting cutlery whatever,” Peter says. “Get your lamp, then.”

“Yay!” Wade squeals, vaulting out of the shopping trolley, and replacing his space with the (completely unnecessary) lamp.

“Come on, then. We need to get bowls, mugs, plates, cutlery, place mats..” Peter starts listing things off on his fingers.

Wade takes control of the trolley and guides them towards the crockey section, where they spend the better part of an hour choosing the perfect design of plate.

 

*

 

Peter banishes Wade to the bedroom while he puts all their new purchases away in the appropriate places. It doesn’t take him that long, really, but he does manage to get through the whole of the ‘Rent OBC Recording’. Which, okay, is kind of long.

Wade starts bugging him around ‘Finale A’, which Peter kind of expected.

“Petey, please. Look, I’ve found a home for Henry, and I’ve put the dog beds out, and I’ve put Isaac Mewton’s bed right next to ours, although I doubt that’ll change anything. Cats are the devil. And you’ve been putting dishes away for positively hours. Take a break, and we can plan our housewarming party.”

“We’re having a housewarming party?” Peter asks, putting the last plate away, and turning his attention to the bowls.

“Um, duh? Of course we are? Look, I’ve drawn out the invites already, so you can’t say no,” Wade hands him a pile of hastily drawn, mildly explicit cards. (It reads ‘we moved fucking house. Come get shitfaced with us while we pretend to celebrate’.)

“Wade, we can’t send this. It’s too..”

“Perfect?” Wade says mournfully. “I know.”

“Well, I was going to say rude, actually. But sure,” Peter hands the cards back, and pushes the stack of bowls into the cupboard. “There. I’m done. Let’s write up some cards we can actually send.”

“As long as we can use red and blue colours,” Wade says. He scrunches his cards into a ball and tosses them into the waste paper basket.

“Well, I wasn’t going to use pink, was I?” Peter says.

 

*

 

Housewarming parties are exhausting, Peter decides. He’s had enough of little finger foods, and fancy hors d'oeuvres. And champagne flutes can, frankly, go drown themselves. In champagne, preferably, because that would make a wonderful metaphor. 

And he’s never letting Wade be in charge of music again. They had listened to three Nick Jonas songs before Peter’s few remaining brain cells came up with the idea to change it.

Now Wade was sitting on the countertop, chattering away to whoever was listening (which usually ended up being Peter). And Peter was doing well, like really well. His heart rate hadn’t risen a bit, and he was only sweating because of all the extra people.

Maria Hill had only come for an hour, and then left. Pepper had stayed for two, and then gone, saying she was “So sorry, but Tony is terrible at running a company and I have to go make sure half of the most influential people in the world don’t hate us anymore.” And that was a perfectly reasonable excuse when it came to Tony.

Speaking of, Tony had hardly left Peter’s side, constantly jabbing his ribs and saying “I’m so uber proud of you, you know?” and “You’re doing good, kid. That’s all down to me, by the way. I raised you perfectly.”

“Actually, you raised me to think that threatening someone with an electric saw was an alright threat,” Peter says, filling more goddamn champagne flutes, “I think that’s anything but perfect.”

“He’s got a point, Tony,” Steve says. “Regardless, we are both proud of you, son. You’ve come so far in such a short time.”

“Thanks, Pops,” Peter smiles, leaving the glasses on the counter in favour of hugging the two of them.

“Seriously, though, Pete. I could swear that just yesterday you were begging for help on your biology homework,” Steve chuckles.

“Or scribbling on the walls with crayon,” Tony says.

Peter laughs too, blinking away the sudden mist in his eyes, and praying neither of them will catch it.

“You alright?” Tony asks softly.

Peter nods. “Yeah. Just.. what if this is too soon? I mean, me and Wade have only been dating for eleven months. And I’m still not completely healed from everything. What if something goes wrong again?”

“If you ever need to come back home, the Tower is always gonna be there. Your floor will be reserved. I won’t even rent it out to people,” Tony says. “The Tower will always be home for you. So will the compound, and literally anything with my name on, okay? We will always be your home.”

Oh, God. Steve is crying. “Dad,” Peter says, “You made Pops cry.”   


“Made you cry too, Pete,” Steve says, brushing away the tears on Peter’s cheeks.

“All happy, though, right?” Tony asks.

“All happy,” Peter confirms. Steve hugs him again. 

“Hey, Wilson!” Tony shouts, sort of into Steve’s shoulder.

Wade turns, and frowns. “What? Is Petey under all that super soldier goodness?”

Peter groans. “Yes, he is!” he says, also into Steve’s shoulder.

“Come over here,” Tony says.

Wade does, and then Tony is pulling him into the hug too.

The champagne flutes are forgotten, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to care. Then again, they were for Nat.

He pulls himself out of the hug to pour the bubbly, bringing it over to Natasha with Wade gripping the back of his shirt.

 

*

 

Their mornings consist, now, of sleepy nothing.

Sometimes Wade gets up and makes coffee for Peter, or Peter makes it for Wade. most of the time they just lie in bed and Peter tangles his legs in Wade’s, and his fingers in the fur of whichever dog won the Bed Hunger Games the previous evening.

The sun normally shines right on Wade, and whenever Peter wakes up first, he just.. Watches it. Watches the sunbeams fall across Wade’s forearm, or his chest, and make him look sparkling and peaceful. He traces feather weight fingers over Wade’s scars, and draws patterns into his skin.

Then Wade’ll wake up, because he’s unbearably ticklish, and then they just sort of cuddle, in sleepy warmth. With morning breath, and almost getting too hot and Peter decides he’s never felt more put together.

The psych team at SHIELD were right. Moving was a good thing. It was helping.

 

February

 

Peter hadn’t ever really celebrated Valentine’s day. He hadn’t especially had a reason to, because MJ hadn’t really been his girlfriend so much as his girl friend, and she was the only person he’d ever dated. Or sort of dated.

Before Wade, he had spent the day doing what he would do on any other day. Only he’d do it without Ned, or Harry, because more often then not, they would be out on a date. There had been one Valentine’s when he had had to suit up and fight obnoxious, heart shaped robots-turned sentient monsters who wanted to take over the human race. And none of the Avengers had been really available, and besides. His parents deserved a day off.

Peter had fought them with Nova, White Tiger, Power Man and Iron Fist. And that was pretty much it for his ‘Good Valentine’s Day’ list.

Until Wade, of course.

Peter hadn’t even expected anything, so he hadn’t done anything overtly special. All he had planned to do was make Wade chocolate tacos (which was something the two of them were experimenting with. Peter had spent half an hour searching for appropriate, taco shaped, moulds).

So, when Wade woke him up at eleven, on the fourteenth, with a huge smile and a tray of slightly over cooked toast and heart confetti, Peter’s heart plummeted. And also ‘squeeed’ at the same time. It was really quite confusing.

“Morning, snuggle bear! Happy official day of love!”

Peter grins, and leans up to kiss Wade. “Burnt toast. My favourite.”   


“Oh, shush. It’s better then undercooked toast,” Wade says, balancing the plate on their nightstand.

“Good point,” Peter says. “You have your ‘I’ve planned something but Peter isn’t really supposed to know what it is, and it’s been super hard to keep it a secret and I just want to tell him’ face on. What have you done?”

“I don’t have a face for that!”   


“Yeah, you do,” Peter says. “What did you plan?”

“Fine,” Wade grumbles, “I have Valentine’s day stuff planned. So you need to eat your made-with-love breakfast and get up.”

“Wade, why are we doing Valentine’s day?”

“Because its fun. And chocolate, Petey. And I love you.”   


“I haven’t done anything for you, though,” Peter frowns, and takes a bite of burnt toast.

“I don’t care about that. I’m just glad you decided to stick around,” Wade mumbles.

“Why wouldn’t I stick around? The only thing I’ve done is make chocolate tacos for you,” Peter says.

“Chocolate tacos?” Wade beams.

“Well, you said it yourself. Valentine’s is for chocolate.”

“I love you so much,” Wade says, “Anyway. There is time for declarations of love later. Get up, get breakfasted, and get dressed because I have a super big day planned for you.”

“What should I wear?” Peter asks, “Is it fancy?”

“Wear nothing,” Wade says, half kidding.

“They might call it a birthday suit, Wade. But I’d prefer some sort of clothing.”

“Wear whatever,” Wade instructs, “smart casual.”

“Smart casual? What are you wearing? All your smart casual is either nonexistent or covered in blood.”

“Well, that’s slightly offensive,” Wade says. “Doesn’t matter. Just do it.”   
  


*

 

Peter dresses in a burgundy button up, grey jumper and black jeans. “Is this smart casual enough?” He calls to Wade, who has not come out of the bathroom for about an hour.

“I’m not looking! Keep it a surprise!” Wade yells.

“Why am I not allowed to see what you’re wearing?” Peter asks, “Is it wildly inappropriate?”

“No! What do you take me for, Petey? The inappropriate stuff I’m saving for tonight.”   


“Oh, right. Of course,” Peter says, rolling his eyes, “Can I see yet?”

“Nope!”   


“Waaade,” Peter whines.

“What time is it?” Wade asks.

“Like, midday,” Peter says, checking his phone clock, “Actually, midday on the dot.”

“Five minutes, then,” Wade decides.

“Uuugh,” Peter groans, flopping down on the bed. A toast crumb from earlier embeds itself in his back.

“Right, Natasha and Clint and Agent Coulson are gonna be along in a few minutes,” Wade says, “They’re coming to look after the dogs while we’re out.”   


“Wow, you’ve really planned this, huh?” Peter says, “This is beginning to feel a bit overwhelming. I want to know what you’re keeping from me.”

“I’m not keeping anything from you, my dearest,” Wade says, “Promise. Well, maybe a little bit, but it’s all good surprises.”   


“I don’t like surprises,” Peter groans.

“Even good ones?”

“I’ve never really had good surprises,” Peter says.

“You’ve never had a good surprise?” Wade sounds horrified.

“Well, no. Not really.”   


“Good thing I have some good surprises for you, then,” Wade says, “Now shush.”

“Why?"

“Because I need to concentrate,” Wade says, “And you are being distracting.”

“I’m just talking to you!” Peter says.

“And each time I hear your voice, I think of you and you are very distracting,” Wade explains, as if it’s obvious.

“..Oh,” Peter says, “Sorry.”

“Are you blushing?” Wade asks.

“Hahaha, no?” Peter says.

Wade squeals, “You are! You are.”

Peter groans again, and rolls over to check his reflection in the mirror, “If I say I am, will you hurry up?”

“I don’t know yet,” Wade says.

“Fine, I’m blushing. Now come over here.”

Wade opens the bathroom door, and Peter’s jaw drops.

“Holy shit,” he says.

“Is it bad?” Wade asks doubtfully.

Peter shakes his head, and jumps up. “No, not at all. I think you should wear this all the time. Even in bed.”

Wade giggles, picking at the white button up. “You think?”

“Definitely,” Peter says, “Wow. I just.. Wow.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually, like speechless, right now,” Wade says, “I did it. I made you speechless.”

“Second time,” Peter says, “Thats more then anyone, ever.”   


Wade grins. The doorbell rings, “Hey, they’re here! We can go now.”   


“We have to answer the door first,” Peter says. He pats Wade’s cheek, and slips away to answer the door.

 

*

 

“Woah,” Clint says, as soon as the door opens. “You clean up good, Parker.”

Peter grins and blushes. “Thanks. Here, the dogs are all sleeping right now. For once.”

Nat slips past, “Where’s Sunshine?”

“On the couch,” Peter replies, pointing. “Um, do any of you know where Wade’s taking me?”

Phil smiles sympathetically, “Keeping secrets is our job. And we wouldn’t tell you anyway.”   


“Darn,” Peter mutters. “Well, I’m gonna pretend I know what’s going on and say thanks for doing this, whatever you’re doing.”   


“You’re welcome,” Clint says. “We just get to spend the day hanging out with dogs. And my boyfriend. I, personally, couldn’t think of anything better.”

“Well, um, you’re welcome, maybe,” Peter says, “I think. Do you want us to pay you for dogsitting?”

“What? No!” Natasha exclaims, “Tony gives us enough money to get by, and me and Clint both have our SHIELD paychecks. We don’t need any money, Peter.”

“Just thought I’d offer, anyway,” Peter says, sheepishly.

“Well, you don’t need to. You’re too selfless for your own good,” Clint says, “Letting us spend the day with your pets is payment enough. Seriously.”

“If you’re sure,” Peter says.

“They’re sure,” Wade says, attaching himself to Peter’s waist, “we’re going now. Thank you, scary SHIELD agents.”

“Wade!” Peter exclaims, grinning. “Um, thanks for this, anyway,” he says, “I don’t know if I’m being sent to my death or not here, so, if I don’t see you again, I love all of you.”

“Not as much as he loves me, though. Bye-bye!” Wade singsongs.

 

*

 

Wade doesn’t let go of Peter’s hand, even as they ride the subway and one cab and then the subway again.

“Are you trying to blow me off the scent, or something?” Peter asks, squeezing Wade’s fingers. “Why did we get the subway and a cab?”

“Its more fun,” Wade says, “Let’s get off here.”   


“I’m following your lead, babe,” Peter says.

Wade grins. Then squeals, “Look! Look, they’re so cute,” he hisses.

There’s a couple sitting on the seats. One of them had their head in the other’s lap.

“We’re cuter, though,” Wade continues. “Come on.”

Peter laughs, wiggling his fingers in Wade’s, “I don’t think I could go anywhere else. I’ve no idea where you’ve taken me.”

“Don’t lie, of course you know where we are, Mr I have a photographic memory. You can probably recite birthday cards from when you were seven, you definitely have the subway maps memorised. You know where we’re going.”   


“I don’t actually,” Peter admits, “I know what street we’re on. But I still have no idea where you’re actually taking me.”

“Wait, really?” Wade asks, “Really, really?”

Peter nods.

“I’ve actually managed to keep this from you?”

“Evidently so.”   


“I am so proud of myself right now,” Wade says, “Come on, we’re getting pizza.”

“Pizza isn’t very romantic,” Peter frowns.

“Well, its your favourite. Unless you’ve suddenly changed your favourite. In which case, that’s fine. I can give our reservation to your parent’s or maybe a homeless person or something, and we can go try find something else,” Wade says hurriedly.

“Pizza is still my favourite,” Peter says, grinning. “But we could still give the reservation to a homeless person and pay for their meal. It is Valentine’s day, after all.”

“As much as I love that idea, please stop trying to be a hero today,” Wade moans. “We can feed all the homeless people after our meal, okay? It’s a holiday.”

Peter chuckles, “Alright, I’ll try to put my good person genes on hold for an hour or two.”

“Thank you,” Wade sighs, “In here.”

Wade leads him into a hole-in-the-wall, family owned pizza restaurant. It’s all exposed brick wall, and industrial. There’s a big, black, pizza oven at the far wall, and steel pipes lining the ceilings. There isn’t many people, but it’s not empty. There’s smooth jazz (Peter thinks Steve would probably recognise it from his day) playing under all the mindless chatter of other diners.

“What is this place?” Peter asks.

“Pizza,” Wade says, “Come on.”   


“Coming.”

Wade- who still hasn’t let go of Peter’s hand- tugs him over to a table in the corner. There’s no one else around them, really, so its a lot quieter.

“Did you choose this table deliberately?” Peter asks.   
“Why? Is it a bad table?”

“No, it’s.. It’s practically perfect,” Peter admits. “Quiet.”

“Is that good that it’s quiet?”

“Yes,” Peter says, “It’s good.”

“Then that’s why I chose it,” Wade says, “I notice things, see. I know you hate going out to eat because everyone else is always so loud.”   


Peter blushes (again), “I thought I managed to hide that pretty well.”   


“I used to get paid to notice things, Petey. I’m like, a not good spy. Of course I noticed.”   


“No one else did, though. If you had to wear, I don’t know, reading glasses, you might not have noticed,” Peter says.

“You are also a terrible liar,” Wade tells him. A waiter comes up to them, and Peter opens his mouth. Wade covers it with a hand, “Let me,” he tells Peter.

Peter grumbles, but complies, closing his mouth reluctantly. His eyes are smiling.

Wade orders in Italian (woah. Who knew Wade was fluent in Italian. Why has this never come up before. It’s really.. attractive).

“Since when could you speak Italian?” Peter asks, as soon as the waiter nods, smiles and walks off.

“Since forever?” Wade shrugs.

“Why didn’t I know? How many other languages can you speak?”

“Um, I don’t know. I’m fluent in Italian, French, Spanish and German. I can hold a conversation in Chinese and Arabic. Although I haven’t had to speak Arabic for a while,” Wade frowns, “I don’t know if I can still speak Arabic anymore.”   


“Try it,” Peter encourages.

“What should I say?” Wade asks.

“I wouldn’t know what you’re saying either way,” Peter admits, “I can barely pass in Spanish.”

Wade screws his face up for a second, and then says, “ Marhabaan , aismi wad wa'ahab alrajul aleankabut.”

“What does that mean?” Peter asks, his eyes widening of their own accord.

“‘Hello, my name is Wade and I love Spiderman,” Wade says, grinning at Peter’s expression, “It’s not that big of a deal, Petey.”

“It is a big deal,” Peter says, “It’s really, well, attractive.”

Wade wiggles his eyebrows, “Really?”

Peter grins and shoves Wade gently, “Yes, really.”

“Hey, look, pizza!” Wade exclaims, “we’re discussing this, by the way. I didn’t know you liked people speaking other languages so much.”

“I don’t,” Peter says. “I only like you.”

“Are you deliberately this sweet, or is it like a subconscious thing?” Wade asks.

“What do you mean?” Peter blinks, “I just say things, I guess.”

“Subconscious, then,” Wade decides, “Open.”

Peter opens his mouth obediently, and Wade shoves a forkful of pizza in. Peter almost chokes. 

“One, that pizza is incredible, why have we never been here before?” Peter asks after swallowing, “Two, why were you using a fork? You do not eat pizza with a utensil. And third, I have no idea what you’re talking about when you say I’m subconsciously sweet.”   


“One,” Wade copies, “We’ve never been here before because I was waiting for a special occasion. Two, I was using a fork because I like them. They have four little points, it’s brilliant. I want to go back in time and find out who invented the fork, and give them a kiss. And third, you are the sweetest person in the world, and it is completely plausible that you don’t realise you’re being adorable.”

Peter smiles down at the pizza and blushes.

“See what I mean? You are the cutest, most adorable, person I have ever met. Like, you rank above Wolvie.”   


“Wolverine?” Peter frowns. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Wade laughs, loudly. And long. He only stops when Peter shoves his own forkful of pizza into his mouth. 

 

*

 

“That was fun,” Peter says, swinging their conjoined hands as they wander out the restaurant, “Thank you. We’ll have to go back.”

“You are most welcome,” Wade says. “And yes, we will.”

“Where are we going now?” Peter asks as Wade leads him to the nearest subway entrance.

“No idea,” Wade says, “Where do you want to go?”

“I thought you had the whole day planned out?” Peter asks.

“That was a clever lie to make it seem like I knew what I was doing,” Wade admits. 

“You have no idea what to do now?” Peter chuckles.

Wade shrugs, “No?”

“We could go do the most romantic thing in the world,” Peter says.

“Which is?”

“Saving lives,” he offers. “Go home, get our suits on, and make some people’s Valentine’s days.”

“This is what I mean by the most selfless person I know,” Wade mutters. “What sort of crime are we fighting today?”

“All of it,” Peter says, “But rape and murder the most. It’s Valentine’s day, I don’t want people’s lives to be ruined because some asshole can’t get a relationship and thinks they’re entitled to sex because of the holiday.”   


“So selfless,” Wade whispers. “But sure. Let’s do that. So romantic.”

Peter grins, “I know, right?”

 

*

 

Natasha is the only one who doesn’t seem surprised to see them back so early (although Phil does a good job of hiding it. He’s sitting on the couch with Clint, Mr Bump and Mr Tickle).

“What are you guys doing back so early?” Clint asks.

“Mr Hero over here,” Wade says, jabbing a finger in Peter’s direction, “wants to go save people. We’re here to pick up our suits.”

Peter’s cheeks flush, “I just wanna help people,” he says, sort of sheepish.

“You could be spending the entire day with your boy and instead you want to go save people?” Clint frowns.

“Well, I am saving people with him,” Peter shrugs, “so.”

Natasha just shakes her head, “You don’t need to save the city all the time, Peter.”

“I know,” Peter says, “You guys can go home now, if you want. We won’t be out too long. The zoo will be fine alone for a while.”   


“If you’re sure,” Phil says. He has dog hair all over his suit.

“I’m sure,” Peter says.

“Me, too,” Wade says, “if that affects your decision in any way.”   


Clint chuckles. “We’ll go then. Nat wants to come back soon, though. Apparently Little Miss Sunshine missed her, because they’ve hardly been apart.”

“You guys are welcome at any time,” Peter says.

“Except after nine o’clock,” Wade says, “just in case.”   


“Wade!”

Clint snorts, “Did not want that mental picture. I’m going now.” He marches out the front door without a look back.

“Sorry about him,” Coulson says, “I should probably go to.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Thanks for looking after them. I hope they weren’t too much trouble.”

“Your dogs and cat are angels, Peter,” Natasha says, “and if they weren’t yours, I might have to steal them.”

“Why would them being ours stop you from stealing them?” Peter asks.

“Your boyfriend actually scares me,” she says, before swooping out the door. Coulson follows.

As soon as they’re gone, Wade squeals. “Hear that, Petey? Black Widow- the Black Widow- is scared of me! My life goals have been accomplished.”

“Goals? Plural?”

Wade nods. “Yup. One; have her hug me. She did that when I had that panic attack at the Tower. Two; have her be nice to me. Three; have her be scared of me. My life is complete.”

Peter just laughs. “Come on. Let’s go help people.”   
  


*

 

There are a lot of couples out. Which was kind of obvious. They were all holding hands (which prompted Wade to hold Peter’s hand, which prompted some asshole to yell out “Hey, Spidey! Give us a show, then!”, which prompted Deadpool to shoot him in the leg. Which prompted Peter to swing along the sidewalk, instead of walk, for a block.)

After Wade had apologised approximately ten times (Peter lost count after the sixth time), he dropped down to walk next to him again. Wade held his hand, and Peter didn’t resist. Hey, they were a couple too.

“Over here,” Peter says, leading Wade over a rooftop. “Another block. There’s..” he cuts off with a grunt, “Ugh. There’s a group of tipsy guys trying to take advantage of a gay couple.”   


Wade cocks a gun, “This way?”

Peter nods, “Yeah. Lets go quiet.”   


Wade nods once, following Peter and then dropping down into the alleyway (Heads up: Villains, get a new place for crime).

“Knock knock,” Peter says, catching the attention of the gang.

“Who’s there?” Wade asks automatically.

The group, five men in their early to mid twenties, freeze. One drops the half full beer bottle he’s holding, and it smashes on the concrete with a sharp crash. Beer floods out of it.

“Spider,” Peter says.

“Spider who?”

“I spider are a bunch of guys doing something super bad,” Peter finishes, “and we’re here to stop them.”

“What the fuck?” One of the guys says. He stumbles trying to step forward.

“My dear,” Peter says, “If you would be so kind as to finish these guys up.”

Wade grins, “I’d be honored.” He steps forward with his gun in one hand and a coil of rope in the other.

Peter slips around to the victims, two girls who are holding hands. One is in tears. “Hey,” Peter says, lifting up the bottom of his mask to his nose, “If you want to go, you can. The police might take you in for a statement or something later, but me and Deadpool have this covered now.”

The one who isn’t crying nods shakily, “Thank you.”   


“Just doing our job,” Peter says, smiling sympathetically. “Happy Valentine’s day,” he murmurs, escorting them round the bad guys, keeping himself between them at all times, as a barrier. “Get home as soon as, if you can.”   


“Thank you,” the taller says again, “Really, thank you.”

“-Fucking twinks,” Peter hears, tuning back into Wade’s fight.

Then there’s a gunshot and a yelp. “Fucking weak,” he hears Wade spit back in response.

This Valentine’s was going on the good list.

 

MARCH

 

“Petey!” Wade yells in his ear, sometime after six in the morning. It’s actually beginning to feel normal, now. Peter gets woken up like this a lot.

“What?” He groans, refusing to open his eyes. “What have you done? Do we owe money to someone? Is there some guy bleeding out in the living room? If there is, you should take him to the emergency room. I actually have no idea how to stitch people back together.”   


“Two things,” Wade says, “One. Daredevil’s here. Why is Daredevil here? Two, its International Women’s Day and we’re going to be marching in the parade to show support for our Overladies.”

Peter opens his eyes to an onslaught of pink and blue banners. “Why did Twilight Sparkle throw up in our bedroom?”

“Because it’s International Women’s Day and I’m being supportive. Now, come on. Why is Daredevil in our lounge?”

“I didn’t even know he knew where we lived,” Peter grumbles, “Why don’t you go ask him? I’m going to need at least five minutes for my eyes to adjust. All this colour is a tad overwhelming.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go ask him. You better come out soon, though. He can probably hear every word we’re saying right now.”

“No, he’s a nice guy. He wouldn’t purposely listen in.”

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same guy?” Wade asks.

“Depends, is he dressed as Daredevil or Matt Murdock today?” Peter says, “Go ask why he’s here. And offer him a drink, okay. We aren’t Barbarians.”

 

*

 

Peter stays in bed for another three minutes. When he does get up, and go to open the closet he nearly screams, because god _ dammit _ , Wade, why did you have to change every article of clothing I own into something pink or blue or rainbow.

In the end, he dresses in blue jeans, a pale pink button up and rainbow socks. Then goes to find Wade, who is sitting in the kitchen with Matt Murdock.

“Hey, Matt,” Peter says. “What are you doing here?”

Matt turns to Peter. Isaac Mewton is balancing on his shoulder, so he speaks carefully, “Morning. I was just coming to check up on you guys. Everyone says you’re married already.”

Peter blushes. “Not yet, actually. Who said that?”

“Ms Romanoff, Mr Stark, Dr Banner,” Matt starts listing off.

Wade slides a steaming mug of tea in front of Peter, “Really?”

“Mhm,” Matt confirms, “really.”

“Wonderful,” Peter mutters, taking a mouthful of tea, “Oh, by the way, Wade, you’re banned from the closet now.”

“You mean you don’t like the rainbows?” Wade asks.

“I do like the rainbows, but I also like my other clothes. Where are they?”

“Um,” Wade says.

“Wade?” Peter prompts.

“In the kitchen cupboards,” Wade says, all in a rush, “I didn’t throw any of them out, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Why are they in the kitchen cupboards?” Peter asks, standing up to open one of them. Sure enough, there are three stacks of clothes on the shelf inside. “Why did you decide the kitchen cupboards, of all places, were the best place to hide them?”

“Are you two having a domestic?” Matt asks suddenly. “I’d rather not be here if it progresses.”

Wade snorts. Peter has to pinch him to stop him from making a dirty joke.

“We’re not having a domestic,” Peter says, “I’m just confused as to why Wade thought it’d be a good idea to hide all my clothes in the kitchen cupboards.”   


“Because it’s International Women’s Day, Spidey, duh,” Wade says.

“So you’ve said,” Peter says, wearily.

Matt just laughs.

 

*

 

“Come on, come on, come on, come on,” Wade pesters.

“I’m coming,” Peter says. “Chill.”

He’s standing in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. He has been for ten minutes. It’s just.. Well, Peter doesn’t know quite how to describe it. His brain doesn’t feel like all his today.

“Are you okay?” Wade asks, after Peter’s been silent for a bit too long.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.”   


“Can I come in? I’m coming in.”   


The door isn’t locked, so Wade doesn’t have to fish out the lockpicking tools that Peter had gotten from Natasha for his seventh birthday (‘You never know when you might need to go somewhere with a keep out sign,’ she had said).

“Petey? Are you sure you’re okay? Is this about the clothes?” Wade asks, frowning.

Oh. He’s crying. That explains why everything had gone blurry. “No! No- no, its, I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Wade says, “okay. Can I touch you? Do you want anything?”

“I- I don’t know,” Peter repeats. He probably sounds hysterical, but he doesn’t feel it. His heart is beating slower then usual, as opposed to fast (like it normally does when he has panic attacks). Normally, his panic attacks feel like drowning, or sinking in quicksand. Or something fast paced, when his breathing gets heavy and sporadic and it feels like he’s actually, properly dying. 

This one feels slow, and slow paced, and frantic. But slow frantic. Slow enough to make him crazy. 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to know. Let’s go sit on the couch, yeah? I’ll make you coffee, you can cuddle Isaac Mewton and we can call Natasha, or your parents,” Wade says, quietly.

Peter nods in agreement. His head still doesn’t feel right, and he doesn’t really know how he’s controlling his body right now.

Wade eases him onto the couch, and Isaac Mewton prances along the back of it, before leaning down to rub his nose against Peter’s ear. Mr Bump, Mr Tickle and Little Miss Sunshine all know something must be amiss, because they gather at his feet like guard dogs. Wade sits next to Peter on the couch, but not too close. He holds out a phone, and Peter can’t really remember whether its his or not. The air feels likes its being dragged out of his lungs.

“Okay,” Wade says. He’s said okay a lot, Peter’s brain notices, and it’s useless information. “Let’s call Natasha. Do you want her to come round here?”

Peter nods, even if he doesn’t remember how.

He’s distantly aware of Wade calling someone and chatting with them, and of Wade’s hand rubbing his arm, and of Isaac M on the back of the sofa.

He jumps when Natasha lets herself in, but she’s quick to apologise.

“Hey, sorry,” she says, “Now, what’s going on? Do we need Tony?”

Peter nods again, he thinks.

 

*

 

That’s how the entirety of the Avengers end up crowded around their couch. It feels sort of claustrophobic, but in a good way.

Peter is still leaning heavily on Wade. Natasha is on his other side, and Tony and Steve and kneeling by his feet. Clint and Phil are sitting on the other side of the room and Bruce is making them all tea (‘No, Tony, you cannot have coffee,’ Steve said, ‘because it’ll be your fourteenth cup this morning and if I didn’t know you, I’d be worried you were about to self combust.’)

Isaac Mewton is curled up on his lap. His claws keep digging in to Peter’s stomach, but it doesn’t hurt much. It’s actually kind of nice.

Someone must have turned the TV on at some point, because an episode of ‘Steven Universe’ is playing, and Peter wonders who know that that’s his calm show. Probably Natasha. None of them can really tear their eyes away though, and its light hearted enough that Peter finds himself falling asleep.

His head drops onto Wade’s shoulder, and his eyelids droop. He breathes in deeply, slowly, realising that his lungs no longer feel like they’re being stood on by a rhinoceros. Peter drifts off easily enough.

 

*

 

He wakes up when it’s dark (there goes his sleep schedule). 

Wade is still on the couch with him, but everyone else has moved. Natasha is curled up on floor, next to Clint. Phil is sitting on one of the dining chairs, just watching. Tony is leaning against Steve’s chest, sitting in his lap. Bruce is tapping away on his tablet. Nat and Clint look to be asleep, and Tony seems to be heading that way.

Wade notices Peter’s eyes wandering and smiles, “Hey.”

“Mm. Hey,” Peter whispers back, “Did I keep you?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. You hungry? Bruce made something. Also, Bucky’s coming over in a bit, apparently.”   


“Not hungry,” Peter says, “Bucky’s coming?”

“Yup. Wants to see you.”   


Peter wrinkles his nose, “why?”

“Because he cares about you,” Steve says, just as softly. “And he hasn’t seen you for a while.”   


Peter hums, melting against Wade, “Okay.”

“You should probably eat something,” Steve says.

“Probably.”

“Peter,” Steve says, “this is me asking you to please eat something.”

Peter shrugs.

Steve sighs, “I thought you were more responsible then your dad. I’m not prepared to force feed both of you.”

Phil laughs then, which wakes Clint up.

“You don’t need to force feed me,” Peter grumbles. “I’m just not hungry right now.”

“You? Not hungry?” Clint raises an eyebrow. “That’s a first.”   


“Petey, if you don’t eat now, you’ll regret it later. Trust me, I’ve lived through it,” Wade tells him.

“I’m just not hungry right now, okay?” Peter repeats.

“Peter,” Phil starts.

“Can we drop it?!” Peter bites out, louder then he really intended. It wakes Natasha and Tony up.

Everyone falls silent for two seconds, then Steve says, “For now.”   


And Peter decides that’s probably the best he’s going to get.

 

*

 

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to go to the march,” Peter says.

Wade frowns, “Don’t be sorry. There’s always next year.”

“But its my fault you weren’t able to go-”

“Are you seriously trying to apologise for having a panic attack?” Wade cuts in, loudly.

“Not so loud,” Peter hisses, “and no. I’m just saying, if it wasn’t for me, you could have gone.”

“Is he apologising for having a panic attack?” Tony asks, sliding onto the kitchen counter with a coffee mug in hand.

“What? No,” Peter says.

“Yes,” Wade says, over him, “Fucking martyr.”

“Pete, don’t apologise for that. It’s not something you can help, okay? You went through a lot, and there’s gonna be reapercussions. You shouldn’t apologise for something that is only to be expected. You’re nineteen, which is still basically a child.”   


“Does that make you ‘basically a senior’ now?” Peter asks.

“How dare you,” Tony says, “No, it doesn’t. Were you listening to what I said?”

“Yep.”   


“What did I say?”

“Um,” Peter frowns. 

“Is that your ‘I was listening but don’t want to say it’ frown, or your ‘I wasn’t listening and don’t know what we’re talking about’ frown?” Tony asks.

“I have different facial expressions for that?”

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Tony says, “Or you’ll make me forget what I said.”

“What if that was my plan?” Peter says.

“Is it?” Tony raises his eyebrows.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Whatever, kid,” Tony huffs, “As long as you stop apologising for things that aren’t your fault, I’m happy. Panic attacks will never be your fault, so stop blaming yourself for everything.”   


“But I-”   


“Ah!” Tony interrupts.

“But-”

“Ah, ah, ah! What did I just say?”

“.. To stop blaming myself for everything,” Peter mutters reluctantly.

“Good,” Tony says, “Got it?”

“Got it, Dad,” Peter says. 

“Hug?” Tony opens his arms.

Peter does, wrapping himself around Tony like an octopus and resting his cheek on Tony’s shoulder.

“Are you taller than me?” Tony asks, pulling back and frowning.

Peter smiles sheepishly, “Probably?”

“Not as tall as me though,” Wade says.

“Well, no,” Peter says, “You’re a giant.”   


“So’s Steve,” Tony grumbles, “Go be giants with him. Let me and Peter wallow in our lack of height. Even though he’s taller than me, which is unfair.”   


“I can see where I’m not wanted,” Wade says, “See ya, shortstack. Let me go hang out with all the giants.”

“No, we get Nat and Bruce,” Peter says, “And we get Ava and Sam, too. And Foggy Nelson.”   


Wade stops, “How do you know Foggy Nelson?”

“How do you know Foggy Nelson?” Peter asks.

“I asked you first,” Wade says.

“I met him the first time I met Matt,” Peter explains, “like, two years ago? I don’t know. Matt and I teamed up, we both got hurt so Matt took me back to his apartment, ‘cause it was closer, and then called a woman called Claire and Foggy. How do you know him?”

“I’ve known them for ages,” Wade says, “I met Matt’s on again, off again, girlfriend, Elektra, first. Then Matt. Then Foggy.”

“Who are we talking about?” Tony asks. “Do they require a shovel talk?”

“Who requires a shovel talk?” Natasha asks, coming in, and sounding far too chipper for Peter to process.

“Matt and Foggy, whoever they are,” Tony says.

Peter drops his head into his hands as Wade cackles. “No one requires a shovel talk,” Peter groans.

“I’m so calling him and telling him this,” Wade says, already digging out his phone.

“No! Wade, no!” Peter exclaims. 

Wade just holds a finger to Peter’s lips, and holds the phone to his ear. “Oh- Matt? Hi, its Wade.”

“ _ I do have caller ID. What can I do for you? _ ” Matt asks.

“Wade, stop!” Peter screeches into the phone, “They’ll never talk to me again, and we can’t have that because Karen makes really, really good banana bread.”

“Hold up, you got to try Karen’s banana bread?” Wade asks, sounding affronted. “We’ll be discussing that later. Anyway, Murdock, I got a Mr Stark and Ms Romanoff here, wondering if they need to give you and Fogs a shovel talk.”

Matt bursts into laughter.

“Who’s Karen?” Tony asks, “Does she need shovel talking too?”

“No! God, Dad. Okay. Karen is Foggy’s girlfriend,” Peter explains, “Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson. They’re lawyers in Hell’s Kitchen. Matt’s also Daredevil.”

“ _ I’m glad this is cleared up _ ,” Matt says, “ _ Anyway, I have a client right now, so I’ll see you later. Well, you know what I mean. Take care, Peter, Wade. Nice to meet you, Mr Stark, Ms Romanoff. _ ”

Wade turns to Peter, “Now, you need to tell me exactly how managed to get Karen to give you some of her banana bread.”

  
  
TBC  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BOY ITS A MONSTER 15K .
> 
> also, please assume that peter has all sorts of panic attacks on the days that arent described. i didnt want to describe him having one every month, cause thats repetitive. but just assume that he does have them more then its mentioned.
> 
> so i had a lotta fun deciding what all their halloween costumes were gonna be tbh. 
> 
> also fun fact my sister uses the 'million, million and one loves' thing so i thought itd be superduper cute to include.
> 
> also also i added links so you can see, approximately, what the houses they visit look like. i dont know if thats gonna help you, and i dont know if they worked. heres hoping they did. the reason january is so broken up is because i wrote a 5+1 thing just before writing it, so my brain was still in short little sections mode.
> 
> in february, there's a bit in arabic. i dont speak arabic, so i used google translate. if you speak arabic please pleaase correct me if its wrong, and ill change it. thank you! also did u get the spider (spy there) joke, it took me ages to make it up lmao. also i do not condone shooting homophobics. dont shoot people in general. punch them instead: theres no lasting damage. unless ur a fucking boss at punching.
> 
> guess i gotta go update the tags. uggggggggggggggh. catch me over here ruining my own life and adding heck fucking tons of new characters oh god im going to cry
> 
> i also figured out the basic timeline for it too. so: peter and wade start dating in february, when pete is 18. nat finds out in july, and then peter gets kidnapped at the end of july. he gets rescued a week or two into august, and then wakes up three weeks into september, thereabouts. its written in my notes on my phone, so if you want me to explain in more detail just shoot me a comment
> 
> i want part two to go up soon as. although i havent written it yet. im hoping itll take me two weeks ish? so if i can, itll be up on the 7th of april. although it might be a biiiit longer. 
> 
> as for now, comment if you liked it! i thrive off of comments, and kudos. so. pretty please?


	12. Epilogue Part Two: The Last One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> holy shit, you guys. enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for panic attacks in this one guys. also cute robots.

APRIL

  
  


Wade, Peter is quickly discovering, tends to go all out on holidays.

He wakes up on Easter morning to find the entire apartment decked out in pastel blues, yellows, and pinks. And also wondering how Wade manages to decorate so extensively, because Peter isn’t an especially heavy sleeper (in fact, his spidey sense has a habit of waking him up exactly a minute before his alarm goes off; somehow deciding the dreaded beep is a threat. And yeah, Peter can’t really argue with that logic.)

Wade is doing something in the kitchen. If Peter stretches out his senses, he can hear Wade humming a religious - sounding tune and smell him flooding the apartment with chocolate and coffee. Which isn’t such a bad way to wake up, actually.

Peter drags himself out of bed and calls out to Wade, “What are you doing?”

Wade shrieks, and yells, “Cover your eyes, Spides! I have surprises!”

Peter giggles and does, putting a hand over his eyes and then relying on his Spider-man powers to walk him to the kitchen without falling. “What are you doing? Why does everything smell of coffee and chocolate and-” he sniffs, “Is that my shower wash?”

“Coffee is easy,” Wade says, pressing a mug of joe into Peter’s hands, “and yes, it’s your shower wash. I ran out the other day, anyway.”

“Hm,” Peter says, sipping the coffee. He feels around for the counter to put the mug down and holds out his arms, “Hug? And can I open my eyes now?”

“Yes, and no,” Wade says, leaning down to wrap Peter in his arms and press a kiss to his lips. “Happy Easter, by the way.”   


“Is that why the apartment smells like chocolate?” Peter asks. “And when can I open my eyes?”

“That might be why the apartment smells like chocolate,” Wade admits, “And you can open your eyes.. Now,” he says, manhandling Peter approximately one hundred and eighty degrees to the left.

“Goddammit, Wade,” Peter breathes out, staring at the frankly overwhelming stack of chocolate eggs. “How many is this?”

 

“Huh, well, let’s see. Maybe..Fifteen?”

Peter lets out a huff of laughter. “That’s a lot of chocolate.”   


“It’s how we’re celebrating,” Wade declares, “It’s Easter.”   


“Isn’t Easter about the rebirth of Christ, and the betrayal of Judas or something?” Peter asks.

“Probably,” Wade shrugs, “I don't remember. I think I was about eight years old when I last went inside a church. Anyway, we’re celebrating Jesus’ miracle work with chocolate. So stop complaining.”   


“Not complaining,” Peter says, grinning. He runs a finger over the pile of Easter eggs on the table. “But this is a lot of chocolate. When did you have time to get them? And when did you have time to decorate the apartment without waking me up?”

“Well, you said your spidey sense doesn’t really set off around me, right?” Wade says, “I guess me making lots of noise isn’t a cause of danger to you, Petey. Actually, I hope your spidey sense goes off if I’m getting jumped by the window or something.”   


“I’m sure it will,” Peter says, peeling off the circle of adhesive tape on the flap of the egg. “Chocolate for breakfast?” He asks, already pulling the egg out and unwrapping the foil.

“Do you really think I would say no?” Wade grins, reaching over to break a piece off.

Peter grins, “Of course not. Here, have some coffee and fruit, or something. We have to at least pretend we have normal eating habits.”

“Normal? Petey, you eat like a day’s meals for a normal human in one sitting. And our diet consists primarily of tacos and various other Mexican delicacies. I have no idea where you got normal from.”   


“Shut up and eat this strawberry, okay?” Peter says, shoving the berry into Wade’s mouth, effectively shutting him up.

Which lasts all of the forty eight seconds it took Wade to chew through the strawberry, and swallowing (stalk and all). “Ate the strawberry. New record?”

Peter shakes his head in regret, “Nope. About seven seconds out.”

“Damn,” Wade groans. “Next time.”

“Or you could eat another one now, and then hopefully your organs will thank you,” Peter suggests.

“Hm. Yeah, no. Can’t disrupt my routine too much, you know? One strawberry a day.”

Peter sighs. “Fine. Apple?”

“Baby boy, that’s my afternoon fruit. Not my morning fruit. Especially not my Easter fruit. Are we going to go to a church service later?”

“Thought you said you hadn’t stepped foot in a church since you were eight,” Peter says.

“Oh, I haven’t,” Wade confirmed. “I just would be willing to go if you want to go.”   


“I don’t want to go,” Peter says, “Besides, I don’t think I could believe in just one God at this point. I know at least four on a semi personal level, you know?”

Wade nods seriously, “Thor, Loki.. and?”

“Frigga and Odin,” Peter reminds him, “I met Heimdall once. He’s kind of terrifying. Like, uh, Charles Xavier. Only this guy finds people using a sword, not some complex computer system called Cerebro. And Hela. Man, that woman has some issues. Did you hear about what happened?”

“I’m not used to you speaking that much,” Wade says. “And yes, I have met Hela. Her and Natasha get along quite well apparently. SHIELD wants to lock her up for good, but she’s so powerful that they probably couldn’t keep her even if they tried.”   


“Well, we don’t have the resources for crafting Asgardian cuffs and chains.” If Thor brought down whatever enchanted metal he preferred, or they used, he and Tony could probably work together to figure it out, and enhance it. Chances are, Tony already had something that could be used.

Peter imagined a light bulb go off in his head. Of course he and Tony could make something better. For one, Tony was Tony freaking Stark; two, Tony (and Peter to some extent) were the most intelligent in the tower. With the exception of Bruce really, but Bruce was smarter than the two of them, so no hard feelings.

Anyway, since Tony had worked had to get Black Panther on his side, it probably wouldn’t be too hard to get ahold of some vibranium, and strengthening the Asgard cuffs with it might actually hold Loki a lot better. He made a mental note to mention it to his dad whenever they saw each other next (which, based on Peter’s track record, would either be five times in one day, or not at all until the next alien invasion. If the latter ended up being the case, he and Tony would probably end up bouncing formulas off one another while blasting the monster of the week out of the skies. Which didn’t actually really do much for helping the ideas flow, because Peter generally found himself more concerned with staying alive, rather than physics and engineering.)

“Sugar pot?” Wade asks, nudging Peter with his shoulder. “You blanked for a sec there. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to lie down? Do you have a fever?”

“No,” Peter shakes his head, dispelling whatever genius haze came over him, “Sorry. Had a stroke of genius. About Loki. I’ll draw out some blueprints and show you later.”

“Should I be jealous?” Wade asks.

“What? No!” Peter exclaims, “They were for holding him in prison. Don’t be jealous. Well, actually. Do be jealous, because it’s kind of hot. But not too jealous, because I know how you get and I don’t think Thor would appreciate a dead brother right now.”

Wade waggles his eyebrows. “I think all my plans for today just went out the window.”

“You had plans for today?” Peter asks, “What were they?”

“Nothing important. Nothing I can’t blow off. I’ll pay them all back. Fancy going back to bed, Spidey?”

“Seriously?” Peter asks, glancing up and grinning when he realizes that Wade’s pupils have dilated so much, there’s only a thin ring of blue. “You are not turned on right now. Was it my comment about jealousy? Because that’s kind of true, by the way. Your jealous streak makes my knees sort of wobbly.”   


“I am so turned on right now,” Wade breathes. “Good wobbly?”   


“Good wobbly,” Peter confirms, smiling and leaning back against Wade.

Wade exhales heavily, warm breath curling over Peter’s ear. He whispers, “We should go back to bed. For a long time, preferably.”   


Peter giggles, and they go. Peter only has a few seconds to pray to any and all gods that the dogs don’t discover the chocolate on the table, before Wade distracts him enough that he finds that, really, he can’t bring himself to care right now.

 

*

 

Easter is pretty good, Peter decides, brushing chocolate crumbs off his sheets before they can melt into the bedding. He’s curled up under Wade’s arm, and they’re picking their way through the third chocolate egg. Which, in hindsight, was a bit of a mistake. But whatever. Peter is using the argument ‘chocolate’, and Wade thoroughly agrees with him.

Wade is making him watch some film about adventure seeking labradors, or something. Peter agreed reluctantly, and on the condition that they watched ‘Night at the Museum’ next, which Wade readily agreed to. 

Peter curls himself in on Wade’s warmth, and scratches behind Mr Bump’s ears, and nibbles another lump of chocolate. He runs his fingers over Wade’s scars, and the stab wound Wade acquired the other day that still hadn’t healed fully, and over the cat scratches from when Isaac Mewton climbs Wade like a tree. The majority of Peter’s camera roll consists solely of pictures of Isaac doing just that, and Wade grimacing in pain.

“Alright, honey bunches?” Wade asks, rubbing Peter’s arm.

“Hm? Yep. Fine,” Peter says, jolting back to himself. “Just thinking.”

“What about? And if it’s Loki again then I may have to slice at least one of his arms off.”   


Peter snorts, “Good luck beating an actual God. Besides, it’s not Loki, so no stress on that front. Of course, you’re welcome to slice one of his arms off at any time.”   


“I wasn’t actually going to ask permission,” Wade says, shrugging, “Anyway, what were you thinking about?”

“I don’t know. This, I guess.”   


“This in a good way, or this in a bad way?” Wade frowns.

“Good way!” Peter says, hurriedly, “Good way. For definite. I was just thinking about, well, how different things could have gone.”   


“How so?”

“Well, if you hadn’t fallen off the SHIELD helicarrier, for starters. We never would have met,” Peter says.

“We met before that!” Wade exclaims, “When you fell out of that tree.”   


“That was when we met as Peter and Wade. We met as Spider-man and Deadpool when you fell off the SHIELD helicarrier and onto the roof I was on at the time.”

“Which one came first?” Wade asks.

“The tree,” Peter says. His cheeks heat up and he rubs his arm in phantom pain.

“Did it? I always forget, huh, Birdy.”   


“Don’t call me that,” Peter whines, hiding his face in Wade’s shoulder. “I only fell out the tree because I got distracted.”   


“You got distracted watching me walk towards the tree,” Wade says, “And it was quite the compliment, actually. I can’t believe my good looks make you fall ten metres to the ground.”   


“Well, I couldn’t very well have broken my fall, could I? Couldn’t risk giving away I was Spider-man too soon.”   


“Identity porn,” Wade says, nodding along seriously. “I told you I was Deadpool from the start though.”   


“You did. I had a secret identity,” Peter says, shrugging, “Told you eventually, though, didn’t I?”

“After too long. I can’t believe you got to listen to me complain to you about Spider-man and Peter Parker. How did you manage not to laugh all the time?”

Peter is silent for a bit. “It was cute,” he admits, mumbling the words into Wade’s neck. “It was sort of what spurred me to ask you out, actually.”   


“What? Hearing me wax poetic about your alter identities?” Wade asks in disbelief.

Peter nods, smiling. “Yep. Like I said, it was cute. I’m quite impressed that I never managed to blush when you were talking to Peter.”   


“We could have avoided that entire situation if you had told me you were Spider-man,” Wade grumbles, “Do you have any idea how embarrassing finding out the truth was?”

Peter giggles, “But would I have asked you out if you hadn’t complimented me to me?”

Wade pauses, “.. Maybe not. Maybe I should keep complimenting you anyway. Just in case.”   


“Just in case what?”

“Just in case you decide to jump off the deep end and become another super hero that I’ll probably fall in love with. Gotta keep you close, you know, Spides. Or you’ll slip through my fingers like sand,” Wade says.

“Me? Slip through your fingers? I like your fingers-”

“Spidey!” Wade interrupts.

“- And I have super cool sticking powers,” Peter continues, sticking his hand to the DVD case and lifting it up, just to prove his point. “I wouldn’t slip through your fingers so much as stick to them.”

“Well, either way,” Wade says, “I’ll have to keep complimenting you and buying you things just to keep you here, sugar bun.”   


“I don’t want a sugar daddy, Wade,” Peter says, giggling. “Besides, you don’t have to bribe me to get me to stay. I’ll stay because I want to, and I do want to.” He lets the DVD case drop back onto the mattress. It barely makes a noise.

“Really? Because I noticed that you need a new stand up mixer in the kitchen.”   


“And I can pay for it myself? My parents are billionaires,” Peter says.

“And your boyfriend is a millionaire. Probably. I can’t remember the last time I checked my bank accounts, actually. My card hasn’t been declined yet though, so I think we’re still stuffed to the ears with some well earned moolah.”   


“You’re a millionaire?” Peter frowns.

“Did you not hear the probably? The maybe? I could be, or I could just be extremely lucky in the money department,” Wade says. He sounds fake exasperated.

“I did hear it, I just chose not to listen. Oh, look, this movie is over now,” Peter says, sitting up and ejecting the disc half way through. “Let’s watch Night at the Museum.”

They watch Night at the Museum, mostly thanks to Peter’s stubbornness and mostly-fake threats. He does make good on one of them, though, webbing Wade’s mouth shut because he won’t stop blurting lines from Robin Williams’ other films whenever he appears onscreen.

 

MAY

 

“Petey!” Wade yells, and Peter wakes up with an overwhelming sense of deja vu. “I have two news-es!”   


“Ugh,” Peter groans, “What are they? Good? Bad?”

“Good,” Wade says firmly, “Hella good. News one is that its our party today! So we need to go food shopping. News two is that Bruce and the psychology people at SHIELD think you can be reinstated as an unofficial Avenger ‘cause you haven’t had a panic attack in a month.”   


“What?” Peter gasps, sitting up fully, “What?”

“What, what?” Wade asks.

“News two- what was it?” Peter says, faintly.

“You can go back and do Avenger-y stuff with your dads and the Avengers?”

“No, the other bit.”   


“You haven’t had a panic attack in a month? Mhm. It’s true, Brucie sent me the data records of when you last had one. It was a month yesterday, actually, but no one told us that and I’m not in the habit of tracking when you last had one so I actually only found out when I got a message from the SHIELD psych department telling me what I just told you,” Wade explains.

Peter lets out a breathy laugh. “And they’re serious? It’s not some super late April Fool’s joke?”

Wade looks affronted. “If it is a joke, I’ll tear out their ventromedial frontal lobes and choke them with it.”   


“Please don’t do that,” Peter says, grinning all the same. “Wow. A month. Can’t say I miss them. Anyway, what was that about a party?”

“Oh!” Wade exclaims, “Right. Party. Well, you know how we were going to have a house warming party at our old place, and then all the stuff happened, and I had already promised George in the shop, and Marisa at the vets, and Blind Al, that we’d be having a party, then I figured I’d make good on that promise. So here we are. I forgot to tell you, though. But I’m telling you now,” He takes a second to breath.

Peter chuckles, “How could you forget to tell me? It’s my party too.”   


“Well, that hardly matters now. What does matter is that I planned a party with some of the scariest people I know and the only food stuff we have in the fridge is cream cheese that is actually two days past its best before date. Seriously, it’s turning into yogurt.” Peter makes a face, and Wade mirrors by wrinkling up his nose. “Alright. We’ll go food shopping soon. Who did you invite, by the way?”

“SO many people,” Wade gushes. “I invited Marisa because she wants to see Isaac Mewton - the little bugger, he tore a hole in my jeans the other day - and I invited Blind Al because we love Blind Al and so does Natasha. I invited all the Avengers, too, because I know you like them. And George from the shop, but that was only because I sort of promised him. Also I invited Ava, Sam, Luke and Danny, and Princess Shuri, but I don’t actually know if she got the invite because she’s down in Wakanda. I was gonna invite Leeds, and Watson and Osborn, but I didn’t know if you’d want them there so I figured they’re probably used to spontaneous plans with you, anyway, so if you want them here, just say and I’ll drop them an invite.”

“Wow,” Peter says, “Wow, thats a lot of people.”

Wade looks instantly worried, “Shit. Sorry, is it too much? I can postpone, or something. I’m sorry, I should have thought of that before. Should have told you before too, it just slipped my mind. Damn, Petey, I’m so sorry.”

Peter giggled as Wade bounds over and scoops him into a hug. “It’s not a problem,” He says into Wade’s shoulder. “Sure, I wish you had told me sooner, but it really isn’t a problem. I just didn’t know that that many people would want to come.”   


“Just be glad I didn’t invite any of the Fantastic Four. Johnny Storm is crazy,” Wade mumbles, “I really am sorry, baby boy. I didn’t mean to make you worried, or scared, or feel left out or all of the above. Or none of the above. I’m still super duper sorry for not telling you.”

“Rest assured I don’t feel left out,” Peter says, smiling. He leans up to press a kiss to Wade’s cheek. “Now, what was that about needing to get food for this party? When is everyone coming over?”

Wade checks the clock on his phone, then pulls up the notes app. He skims through whatever he’s written on there, before saying, “I think everyone should be here at three.”   


Peter checks the clock on his own phone, “So we have about five hours?”

“You’re the smart one in this relationship, Petey,” Wade says, shrugging.

Peter smacks a hand on Wade’s forearm, “You’re plenty smart. Stop putting yourself down.”   


Wade grins sheepishly.

“Anyway,” Peter continues, “What food do we need to get? Is anyone allergic, or vegan, or something?”

“Well, Sam and Ava have that fucking useless bet to see who can last as a vegetarian for longer,” Wade shrugs, “Other than that, I don’t know.”

“Sam is an idiot,” Peter says, “making a bet with Ava. About who can last longer without hamburgers? He is so going to lose. How much did they bet?”

“Sam said if he wins, Ava’ll give him fifty dollars. If Ava wins, Sam gives her fifty dollars. I think Luke and Danny are betting on who’s going to win. Danny thinks Ava, so if Ava wins Luke has to give him twenty, and vice versa.”   


“Why did Luke bet for Sam?” Peter asks.

“He said that Sam was so stubborn, that he couldn’t possibly lose,” Wade explains.

“Huh,” Peter considers that. “Well, He’s not wrong.”

“Sam’s gonna lose anyway. Ava was already considering going veggie before this bet, so I’m sixty seven percent certain that she’ll probably stay vegetarian after winning, too,” Wade says.

“Is Ava okay?” Peter asks, after a few seconds of silence.

“Yeah, why?” Wade frowns.

“It’s just.. She was there too, right? I heard her sometimes. Not often, but I think she knew I was there too,” Peter says, quietly.

“Oh,” Wade says, “Uh. Yeah, her and Princess Shuri were both there. I think they’re both okay. We don’t really talk much about what happened, and I can’t find answers anywhere because of patient doctor confidentiality. So even if they were spilling their guts to a SHIELD authorized psychic, I wouldn’t be able to find out. You have her number, why don’t you ask her?”

Peter shrugs, “I guess I could. Maybe I’ll mention something later. Now, food shopping?”

 

*

 

Food shopping, as it always does with Wade, turns into a whole ordeal, in which they knock over a display of toilet roll, scatter soup cans all of the aisle by accident and almost but not quite get kicked out because Wade thought it’d be a good idea to prance down the home baking aisle and crash into the pre-made icing displays in the middle of a quite impressive pirouette.

Peter just looks straight ahead the entire time, his knuckles turning white on the shopping cart handle. 

They do manage to get everything one could possibly need for a party, multiplied by ten because they were feeding a load of supers and Hawkeye. Peter makes Wade wait on the couch in the living room while he unpacks everything and puts it in its correct place in the kitchen. Wade serenades him with an acapella cover of Bohemian Rhapsody, and Peter is impressed because Wade somehow manages to sing every part of the song.

Whether it was actually good singing is a matter of opinion.

It takes Peter three renditions of Bohemian Rhapsody to put everything away, and then he flops over Wade’s chest because his ears and arm muscles hurt.

“You alright, bubble?”

“I’m fine, but I don’t know about my arms. Or my ear drums. And I don’t think I like bubble.. I don’t get it,” Peter groans, the words muffled by Wade’s chest.

Wade grins and Peter sighs, because whenever Wade gets that look it means it must be something dirty. “It’s inspired by your butt, Spidey. And why do your ear drums hurt? I mean, I’m not that bad a singer.”   


“Yeah, but you’re an baritone. Not a soprano, and my ear drums would thank you if you stopped pretending you were,” Peter grumbles.

Wade chuckles, “But I don’t make it sound bad, do I? You’re just jealous, Mr I can’t Sing At All.”

“Keep telling yourself that. You’ve just never heard me properly sing.”   


“Show me and prove me wrong, then,” Wade challenges, and Peter grimaces when he realises he’s driven himself into a corner.

He shakes his head no, and Wade laughs again, threading his fingers through Peter’s hair. “One day, I’ll get you super drunk and you’ll show me. I hope your voice sounds like an angels, because you’re kind of hyping it up here.”   


Peter frowns, “You won’t get me super drunk. I metabolise too quickly.”   


“I’ll find a way. Make my own alcohol.”

“Right. Sure,” Peter mutters. “We should start sorting stuff out if we’re having guests.”   


“Ten minutes?” Wade asks, so they spend ten minutes making out on the couch instead.

 

*

 

The paarty actually goes perfectly.  Seeing Blind Al puts both Peter and Wade (and Natasha, not that she’d ever admit it) in a good mood. Al apparently knows Peter’s entire family, so Peter makes them all sit down and explain.

“Well,” Clint starts, “It goes like this. I was a total badass, and I saved Phil and everyone, and then I got loads of info out of the guy and saved the day.”

“That is not how it happened at all,” Natasha retorts, “Phil wrote up the mission briefings, which we can show you, if you want. Clint, Phil, Al and SHIELD Agent Mitchell, all went on an op at a hospital which we were sure was a front for more suspicious operations. We were right, Phil got sort of captured, Clint was an idiot and made Al and Mitchell look after our guy to go find Phil, and almost killed literally everyone there. Then Clint got benched for about a week, which was pulled back a few days later, because we needed him. That’s all that happened.”   


“Clint was an idiot, and people nearly died?” Peter raised his right eyebrow, “That just sounds like a normal Friday night for us.”   


Tony bursts out laughing. “I knew you were my son.”   


“That barely even makes sense, Tony,” Steve says, “He is your son.”   


But none of them really care. Besides, cheap beer and embarrassing Clint is far more fun.

 

*

 

Peter is curled up under Wade’s arm again, which is how he spends about sixty percent of his time now. And he really probably should care about that, but he doesn’t. Wade is warm, and safe, and home. Anyway, dogpiling with him and their pets on their bed is exactly how Peter likes to spend the evenings.

Wade is curling Peter’s hair around his fingers, which reminds Peter that he sort of needs to get it cut soon. 

“Party went well, huh, baby boy?” Wade murmurs.

Peter smiles and nods, “I think so. We should invite people over like that more often. I like it.”

“Yeah?” Wade asks. Peter nods again. “We should organise to go over to the Tower sometime this week, probably. I think your dad misses you. Also, you should look to start applying for college,” Wade suggests, “It’d probably do you good, you giant nerd.”

Peter bites his lip, “do you think? It would be nice, I think. Yeah.”   


“I think you would love getting back to school and correcting your professors.”   


“That’s not really what I’m supposed to do,” Peter says, grinning. “But I would like it.”   


“If you can help them do their jobs better, help them do their jobs better, Petey,” Wade tells him, “And I really think you should apply for some places. Just in case. You don’t even have to go, but I think it’d help you to have some kind of order in your life now.”   


“Have you been talking to the SHIELD psych evaluators?” Peter accuses, sort of joking.

“No, but I’ve been talking to Bruce,” Wade says. “He thinks it’ll help you too, so he said that you can always meet up with him if you want to go look at some places. He says that sometimes Tony can get a bit overwhelming in situations like that.”   


Peter shrugs, “I don’t know. I’ll think about it. That’s nice of Bruce to offer, because he’s right, Tony does get a bit over excited. You should have seen him when I went to look at what high school I wanted to go to.”   


“Bet he wanted you to go to some expensive, private institution,” Wade says.

“Oh yeah,” Peter hums, “But I told him I just wanted to be a normal kid for a bit, so we found Midtown High and that’s where I went. Thankfully, he didn’t mind too much. And after a brief hack of the lesson plans, he decided that the work they’d be teaching us was fairly good and I got in. I’m just glad he’s so supportive of most of the things I do.”

They fall into silence, both thinking of the one time Tony didn’t support Peter’s decisions, before Peter shakes his head. “Anyway, there’s no point dwelling on the past, right? Focus on the future.”   


“What do you want to do in the future?” Wade asks. “Like, what job? Because the only thing I know how to do is kill people and make it look like an accident, so I’d be no good at a nine till five. And I know you would hate to rely on your dad’s money, because it would make you feel super guilty.”   


Peter shrugs, “I don’t know. I never really thought about it till the end of high school. Everyone has their dreams, right? Like, actress, opera singer, astronaut. My dream used to be to save as many people as I could. But I couldn’t get paid for that unless I log my identity into SHIELD, and so far Director Fury is the only one who knows I’m Spider-man. Unless he’s told anyone, but I think Natasha threatened him with something worse than death if he ever did.”   


Wade laughs, “Sounds like Natasha. And I always wanted to be a sumo wrestler, in case you’re curious.”   


“Sounds like you,” Peter repeats. “I always wanted to be an author, but I suck at making up fantasy worlds. Then I discovered photography but I don’t think that would pay enough if I was doing freelance. The one career I’ve always wanted to have was either a teacher, or some sort of biochemist. Or something like that.”   


“You would make an amazing teacher, sugar britches,” Wade says, “but I might have to become your personal body guard because if you become a college professor, or a high school teacher, literally everyone in the school would want to get with you.”   


“Well, maybe you’ll have to marry me first, and then they’ll know they can’t, won’t they?” Peter teases. Wade leans down to kiss him, and Peter grins.

Yeah. Home.

 

JUNE

 

The days all feel like they’re speeding away from Peter, spinning and twisting out of his reach until they blur together in a way that looks like comfort and familiarity, and it’s kind of nice. Spending every hour with Wade, or Tony, or Steve, or Natasha and just taking things as they come.

He visits his Christmas gift lab at least once a week, sometimes talking to Tony, sometimes not. It also depends on whether Tony is actually there. Or whether Tony registers that Peter’s there. Steve normally comes in to say hello, at least. Sometimes he drags Tony with him.

“Hey, Peter!” Steve says, opening the door to his lab. Tony follows behind, shuffling his feet and  fiddling with something or other in his hands. 

“Hi, Pops,” Peter mutters around a screwdriver.

Tony dumps the thing he was fiddling with in the trash can. “Alright, Peter?”

“I’m good. What was that you just threw away?” Peter asks.

“Oh, just a little robot I was playing around with,” Tony says dismissively.

Peter frowns and puts his screwdriver on the desktop, before walking over to the trash can and fishing out the robot. “Why’d you chuck them out?”

“‘Cause it wasn’t working properly,” Tony explains, “If you can fix them up, you can keep it.”   


Peter grins, picking up a teeny tiny screwdriver and starts prodding at the casing. “Really?”

“I did just say that, didn’t I? I’m not repeating it,” Tony says. “Put my work to shame, teeny tot.”   


“I’m nineteen, Dad,” Peter mutters, already cracking the bottom of the robot’s body off to get a look inside. “Woah! Is this adamantium?”

“Nope,” Tony grins, “It’s vibranium.”   


“Where the hell did you get enough vibranium to make this from?” Peter asks.

“T’Challa loves me. Also, after we.. rescued you and Princess Shuri, he gave me some as a thank you. So I made everyone some new vibranium suits and weapons, and had enough left over so I started mucking around with it,” Tony explains.

Steve shakes his head, “And you couldn’t have saved it in case you need to use more vibranium again?”

Tony and Peter both turn to him with the same expression on their faces. “But look how cute this little guy is, Pops!” Peter says.

“He might be cute,” Steve says, “But what if we need that vibranium to save our lives one day?”

Peter frowns, “Then I’ll adjust them so this little dude can save your lives instead.”   


“You’re gonna weaponize my robot?” Tony asks.

“Not your robot anymore, Dad,” Peter says, screwing the bottom back on and stroking the robot’s head. “And no. Maybe. I might build in lasers. What should I name them?”

“River,” Steve offers, after a moment of deliberation.

Peter grins, “I love that! River. Nice.”   


“Are you gonna make them sentient?” Tony asks.

“If by sentient, you mean build in an AI so they can think partially for themselves, then yes,” Peter says. “But they can also be controlled remotely, I think. Sort of like those little drone bots that FitzSimmons uses. You’ve seen them, right? They’re awesome.”

“I’ve seen them. I’ve also picked Fitz’s brains about them, and I haven’t yet been able to recreate anything like it based on what limited info he gave me,” Tony says. “Seen them in action, too. They’re pretty cool.”

“God,” Peter hums, “I wanna pick their brains, too. I wanna see if I can make this guy receptive to temperature changes, and noise levels and stuff. Maybe build in some scanners, so they can pick up heat signatures, and I don’t know, smoke levels if there’s a fire and water levels if there’s a flood. Stuff like that.”   


“That sounds pretty good, Pete. Good luck trying to get him to work,” Tony says. “I need ot go make sure Dum-E hasn’t blown up any of my time sensitive experiments, because if that happens, the Tower might come down around us. Get J to send me a memo if you wanna have lunch with me.”

“Got it,” Peter says.

“Can I stay and watch for a bit?” Steve asks, nudging Peter with his shoulder.

“‘Course. You don’t have to ask,” Peter says as Tony walks out.

“Well, I know how you geniuses need your space,” Steve chuckles. “How’s Wade?”

“He’s good. I left him at home with the dogs and Matt Murdock, so hopefully they don’t blow anything up,” Peter grins.

“I didn’t know you and Matt were so close.”

“We aren’t, really. Wade knows him better, but he’s helped both of us out in a pinch. We’re friends, though. Sometimes he patrols with us.”   


“Oh, yeah?” Steve hums. “And how are you?”

“Good,” Peter says. “Wade says its been like, nearly two months since my last panic attack. Which is good.”

“That’s awesome, Pete!” Steve exclaims. “That’s really, really good.”   


“Its is, isn’t it?” Peter says, smiling and blushing as he turns away from RIVER (Really Intelligent Virtual Emotion Receptor. Genius, right?) and to Steve. 

“You know, Pete, me and your dad are really proud of you. You’ve come back from this really quickly.”

Peter nods distractedly, turning back to the work table and the bot.

“You know you’re always welcome here if you need to be. No matter the time. I’m sure Tony would probably awake anyway,” Steve chuckles. “We’re proud of you, Peter. Really.”

“Thanks, Pops,” Peter says, fiddling with one of the tiny screws scattered on the table top. 

Steve pats Peter’s left shoulder twice. “Better go make sure your Dad hasn’t blown anything up, huh?”

“Okay. I’ll get Jarvis to call you for lunch or something,” Peter says.

“Don’t forget to eat,” Steve says. “Good luck on your robot.”

“Thanks, Pops,” Peter says as Steve wanders into the elevator. Then he turns his attention back to RIVER.

“I should code an AI for you, huh, buddy?” Peter says, pulling one of the holoscreens over to him and swiping through the files to try and find one of Tony’s prototype AI’s.

He studies the basic code layout for a few minutes, before spinning around and sliding his swivel chair over to one of monitors scattered around. “Jarvis,” Peter says, “Pull up a new document in my folder.”

Jarvis does, and after stretching his fingers out, Peter settles down to start coding.

 

*

 

“Master Peter,” Jarvis says, maybe an hour later, “Its an appropriate time for lunch now, and I recommend taking a break. Only so many people can stare at the same screen for two hours.”

“Right,” Peter says, blinking and spinning away from the screen. “Save and pause, then. Who’s in the Tower right now?” He asks.

“Saving now,” Jarvis says. “Save complete. The Tower is currently occupied by you, Sir, Captain Rogers, Agent Romanoff, Dr Banner and Sergeant Barnes.”

“Thanks. Can you ask if any of them want to join me for lunch in the kitchen?”

“Of course, Master Peter.”

Peter waits patiently for a minute until Jarvis speaks up again.

“Dr Banner and your parents have both said they will wait in the communal kitchen are for you,” Jarvis, “Agent Romanoff may join you later. She is currently sparring with Sergeant Barnes, should you wish to join them.”

“Cool, thanks J,” Peter says, walking to the elevator. “To the kitchen, then, please.”   


Jarvis didn’t reply, instead just starting the elevator.

When Peter gets out, and looks around, Bruce, Steve and Tony are already there. Tony is leaning against Steve’s chest, who is leaning against the counter. Bruce is sitting at the breakfast bar, sipping tea and scribbling something on a piece of scrap paper.

“Hey, Peter!” Tony calls, “Fix that robot up yet?”

Peter shakes his head no. “Not yet. But I am working on the AI for RIVER.”

“Abbreviation?” Tony asks.

“Really Intelligent Virtual Emotion Receptor,” Peter explains. “I want them to be able to pick up on people’s emotions.”   


“That sounds awesome, Peter,” Bruce says, “How are you?”

“I’m good. What are you working on?”

“Oh, just trying out some new ideas for the Hulkbuster armor,” Bruce says, turning his paper to Peter. “Any ideas?”

Peter purses his lips before snatching up Bruce’s pencil and making a change to the third metal combo Bruce had written down. “Do this. It’s stronger than the second one.”

Bruce takes the paper back and scans it. “Huh. You’re right.”   


“Of course he is,” Tony says, walking over and putting his hands on Peter’s shoulders, “He’s my son.”

Peter chuckled, “I’m sure it’s just because of that, Dad. What food do you have?”

“What food do you want?”

“Sandwiches?” Peter says after a minute of careful consideration.

“Then sandwiches we shall have!” Tony declares. “Steve, make some sandwiches, please.”

“I’m not your slave, Tony,” Steve says fondly, getting out the bread all the same.

“You could be,” Tony says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Steve and Peter both blush bright red. “Oh, ew, Dad!” Peter exclaims.

Tony cackles. “Sandwiches, then?”

“PB and J,” Peter says immediately.

“Five year old fillings it is, then,” Tony says, “Hear that, Steve?”

“Peanut butter and jelly is not a five year old filling,” Peter defends. “Wade likes it just fine.”   


“That’s because Wade likes you, buddy,” Tony says, dumping the jar of peanut butter on the worktop.

Peter opens his mouth at Tony, and then closes it again. “Oh, my God. I need to- I need to ask him.”

Tony stifles a laugh as Peter pulls out his phone and calls Wade.

“Hey, Wade … Why do you like PB and J sandwiches? … Dad thinks its because you like me ... “ Peter makes a soppy sounding ‘aww’ noise and giggles, “Really? … Okay, well, why else do you like them? … Because PB and J is the superior sandwich filling? Can’t argue with that logic. … Okay, that’s all. How’s Matt? … Is Isaac okay? He hasn’t tripped Matt up yet? … That’s good. Okay, I’ll see you later. … Love you!”

Peter clicks his phone off and turns to Tony with a triumphant expression. “He says he likes peanut butter and jelly because it’s the superior sandwich filling.”

Steve laughs, loudly. “Stop arguing over it and eat your superior sandwich, then.”

Peter grins, and takes a bite so large he almost chokes on it.

“Goddammit, Peter,” Tony says, sliding a glass of water over to him when he starts coughing, “How are you even surviving without us?”

Peter takes a few sips of water. “I have no idea. I like to think I have better survival instincts then you, though.”

“You probably do,” Steve says, “After all, I raised you too.”   


Peter raises his water glass. “Thank you for probably saving my life in more than one way, Pops.”

Bruce laughs. Tony huffs and grumbles (but he’s grinning. Peter can see it).

 

*

 

**[{(check out a shitty drawing of RIVER[here](https://a-mywaited.tumblr.com/post/172672697865/its-a-live-like-kings-thing). the stretchy thing is depicted in 3)}]**

“Dad! Dad!”

“What, Pete?” Tony asks, pushing out of his chair and swiping a hand through the holoscreens gathered in a little circle around him.

“I finished them!”

“You finished RIVER? Already?”

“Yep!” Peter grins, holding the robot on his palm, “Look. RIVER, stand to attention.”   


The little bot stretches out before settling, and then says, “Good afternoon, Peter. Would you like me to assess your emotions?”

“Hey, RIVER!” Peter exclaims, “This is Tony. He’s my Dad. He’s made his own AIs, and you can probably patch into them if you want to.”   


“Good afternoon, Tony,” RIVER says. “Would you like me to assess your emotions?”

Tony grins. “Nice to meet you, RIVER. How did you get the emotion assessing thing in?”

“See these?” Peter says, poking a finger at the little black sensors on either side of RIVER’s body. “Heat sensors, RIVER picks up on your body heat and then translates it to how you’re feeling. These are cameras, so they can kind of see, in the loosest sense of the word. They track the footage they record too, and I can upload it to Jarvis if you want. Then if we need to do surveillance we can send RIVER in and they’ll send us data. This is the speaker, obviously, and then here is the hologram projector. They can show real time data, or pre recorded footage if you ask. Hey, RIVER, play footage from just now.”   


RIVER does, blue light streaming from the projector and forming a screen depicting Tony and Peter talking from the bot’s point of view. After a few seconds, they shut it down and say, “Based on your heat signature, I’d say you are impressed, Tony, and proud of Peter.”   


Tony chuckles. “Damn right I am. This is awesome, Pete. Let’s introduce them to Dum-E and Butterfingers. They’re like, siblings now.”   


Peter grins, “Good idea. Hey, RIVER, meet Dum-E and Butterfingers. They’re Dad’s bots.”   


Dum-E swings his claw around wildly as soon as he catches sight of RIVER.

“Dum-E,” RIVER says, “Good evening, Dum-E.”   


Dum-E swings his claw around again, nearly taking Peter’s head off. 

“Dum-E!” Tony scolds, “Careful.”   


Peter laughs, though. “Dum-E!” He slides RIVER off of his hand and onto Dum-E’s claw. Dum-E freezes instantly, balancing RIVER on his claw.

“I cannot scan Dum-E’s emotion,” RIVER says, “Why is this, Peter?”

Peter smiles and runs a finger over the top of RIVER’s body. “Dum-E’s a robot, like you. You can’t scan his emotions because his body doesn’t change temperature. One day I’ll try and find a way for you to be able to read emotions of everyone, robot or not.”   


“Thank you, Peter,” RIVER says. 

“That’s awesome, Peter,” Tony says, “Seriously. I wish I’d made them.”   


“They are cool, aren’t they?” Peter says, “I’m going to take them home to Wade. They’re excited to meet him.”   


“I cannot wait to be introduced to Wade,” RIVER says, spinning round in a complete circle, emphasising his excitement.

Peter giggles and holds his hand out. RIVER rolls onto it. “Okay, RIVER. I’ll have to put you to charge for a bit before I take you to see Wade. Goodnight, RIVER.”   


“Goodnight, Peter. Goodnight, Tony. Goodnight, Dum-E,” RIVER says, before stretching out again and then settling in Peter’s palm.

“Holy shit. They’re adorable,” Tony says. “You need to show Steve.”   


“I need to charge them and show Wade, too,” Peter says. “I’ll come by tomorrow and introduce RIVER to everyone.”

“Okay,” Tony smiles, “See ya, Peter. Take care of RIVER. If you destroy him, I’ll shout at you because they’re my new favourite bot.”   


“Got it,” Peter nods solemnly. “See you tomorrow, Dad.”   


Peter wanders out, stroking the top of RIVER’s head again, back to his lab to charge them.

 

JULY

 

Peter wakes Wade up this time, with a top hat (coloured neon red, white and blue) balanced on his head.

“Happy Independence Day.”

Wade shrieks and jumps. “Holy shit, Petey! What are you wearing? I mean, what aren’t you wearing?”

Peter grins and blushes at his bare chest. “Its the fourth of July. We have a party to go to later, if you want to. And look, I made RIVER a costume.”

Peter thrusts the robot in Wade’s face. There’s a red, white and blue knitted jumper wrapped around the body.

“Good morning, Wade,” RIVER says. “Using my scanners, I can determine Peter is very excited and you are very-”

“Shush!” Wade interrupts, “Shush. Did you knit that, baby boy?”

Peter nods. “Yep. Al and Natasha are teaching me. I’m not very good yet, but.”   


“I find my jumper perfectly acceptable, Peter,” RIVER says, rolling back and forwards on Peter’s hand.

“Thanks, RIVER,” Peter smiles.

“You’re welcome, Peter. Will we be going to see Tony and Steve today?”

Peter nods. “Yup. Which is why Wade needs to get up. I’m gonna put you on charge so we can take you with us and introduce you to everyone.”   


RIVER bobs their little head, in an interpretation of a nod. “Goodnight, Peter. Goodnight, Wade.”   


“Goodnight, RIVER,” Wade and Peter chorus, and RIVER stretches and settles down. Peter slides them onto the little charging dock on his bedside cabinet.

“I love RIVER,” Wade declares.

“I love you,” Peter says, “I love you more when you’re up and dressed.”

“Can I have your hat?” Wade asks.

Peter lifts the hat off of his head and onto Wade’s, “If I let you wear this to my dad’s party, will you get up?”

“Will you kiss me first?”

Peter grins, but leans down. Wade leans up, but Peter pulls away before long.

Wade, true to his word, gets dressed. Albeit in something less than savoury (white jeans, bright red sweater, obnoxiously large blue belt circling his waist and Peter’s red, white, blue top hat). Peter just does his best to ignore it.

“So, when’s this party, then?” Wade asks, doing a forward roll over the back of the couch. Peter, who is sitting on the couch, barely flinches.

“Later. Sometime,” Peter shrugs, “I doubt dad’ll mind when we turn up. As long as we bring RIVER, he’ll be happy.”

“We’ve had a lot of parties recently, huh?” Wade says, “You up for it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Peter frowns.

“Thought you might be tired,” is all Wade says. Peter hears the underlying concern.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, leaning over to pat Wade’s cheek. “No need to worry.”   
  


*

 

He isn’t fine.

Things were going well. Pleasantries exchanged, finger foods eaten, cocktails made and cocktails drunk. Music listened to, boyfriends danced with.

Then the fireworks started, and RIVER, who was sitting on Peter’s hand again (Peter’s preferred place for the robot. And RIVER’s too, apparently.) says, “Peter, your body appears to be showing symptoms of a panic attack. I would suggest seeking out quiet and Wade.”   


Peter smiles at the bot, and squeezes his fingers around RIVER’s body area. “Right.”

He doesn’t go, though. Just trying to downplay the way he flinches and shivers each time a firework goes off.

It’s not until a tear drops onto RIVER’s left camera that they say, “Peter, I think you should remove yourself for a bit.”   


Peter doesn’t find reason to argue this time. His breathing is short and sharp and he feels a bit like he could blow over at any moment. But the crowd is huge, and throbbing, and the music is loud and its dark so he can barely see. So Peter takes off, shoving through the people in the hopes he would A; run into someone he recognised, B; find space or C; calm down enough to control his breathing. Ideally, all three.

Luck, however, is not on Peter’s side. He doesn’t see anyone he knows, and the crowd goes on for miles. And running is not doing his breathing any favours. Then he drops RIVER somewhere, the bot slipping out of his sweaty hands and disappearing into the feet. Peter just hopes RIVER will find their way to him, and avoid getting stepped on.

There- a gap! Peter pushes on towards it, finally heaving a deep breath when the crowd thins. The gazebo Tony had erected was nearby, so he heads towards it. The fridge-freezer and the barbecue is there too, so he fishes a cold beer out of the fridge and presses it against his forehead.

Briefly, Peter considers trying to fit himself inside the fridge, because he wants to be able to see all four walls and the coolness might help. Instead, he settles for squeezing himself under the table and draping the table cloth over to the floor. There. Four walls.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, trying to stave of a fully fledged panic attack, but eventually he realises the beer has gone cold in his hand, so he throws it off to the side. A thing prods his thigh, and says. “Peter, my sensors are picking up signs of distress. Would you like me to find Wade for you?”

And its RIVER. Thank fuck. “RIVER,” Peter breathes, scooping the bot up into his cupped hands and pulling their camera eyes to his. “I thought I lost you. I’m so sorry for dropping you.”   


“I thoroughly understand,” RIVER says, “I managed to find my way out unharmed. Although I’m afraid my external wiring could use a touch up.”   


“External wiring? You don’t have any external wiring.”

“Ah. I do now,” RIVER says, spinning around to expose the back of their body. The case has been bashed up a bit, and a few wires are poking out. Peter examines them closely. And as well as he can through teary eyes.

“This is fine. It’s not in need of emergency fixing, so I hope you’re okay with dealing with it for a hot minute,” Peter says.

“That’s completely fine. Would you like me to fetch Wade for you? Your breathing has gotten worryingly fast again.”   


Peter shakes his head.

“Tony, then? I can patch into Jarvis and have him here in no time.”

Peter starts to decline, before realising that actually, he’s properly crying now and he still can’t really breathe. So he nods and says, “Ask if he can bring a toolkit, too. I’ll fix you up now.”

RIVER bobs their head up and down in response, obviously connecting to Jarvis. After a minute, they say, “Tony will be here any minute.”   


Tony knocks on the top of the table in exactly a minute. Then he pushes the table cloth away and crawls under the table with Peter. “Everything okay?”

Peter just leans his head on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony wraps an arm around Peter. “Here, I got you your toolkit. Does RIVER need some fixing up?”

“Little bit,” Peter says, his voice thick and heavy with tears and snot.

“Okay,” Tony says. He puts the kit on the ground in front of him. “You wanna tell me why we’re hiding under a table?”   


“RIVER?” Peter prompts, unsure as to how much he’ll be able to speak right now.

RIVER understands instantly. “Peter is having a panic attack. I picked up on his heart rate shortly after the fireworks started, and recommended finding a quiet space, but he was determined to wait it out. It wasn’t until ten minutes after that that he finally went. He dropped me somewhere on the ground on his way, which is why he needs the toolkit.”

“Thanks, RIVER,” Tony smiles at the bot. “You okay, Pete? Want me to get Pops, too? Or Wade?”

“Just you,” Peter says, leaning more heavily onto Tony when the heaving breaths start up again.

“Okay, kid. Okay, just me. Come here,” Tony says, pulling Peter half onto his lap (quite a feat. Peter isn’t short by any means, and the table isn’t that high) and wrapping his arms around the boy. Peter responds by tucking his head into the juncture between Tony’s neck and shoulder and sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry,” He chokes out, tears leaking out of his eyes. “I’m making your shirt all wet.”   


“You think I care about this shirt, Pete?” Tony asks, “I really don’t. I care more about you.”

Peter hiccups, dragging in a long breath and sobbing around it. “I’m sorry. I put you through so- so much stress. And now I’m making you worried again, I can tell. And I’m an adult, I should be able to deal with this.”   


“You’re apologising for?” Tony frowns.

“For- for what happened! If I had just not gotten mad, and not stormed off, or ran away, or gotten kidnapped, none of this would have happened.”

“And you think because you’re nearly twenty, you should know how to deal with panic attacks?”

Peter nods, choking into Tony’s shoulder.

“I have panic attacks, do you think I know how to deal with them?” Tony asks. “And I don’t ever want you to apologise for getting kidnapped. We all made mistakes, and some of them had harsher consequences than others. I understood why you ran, okay? And I know I could have dealt with it all better, so for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for how I reacted. But it wasn’t your fault, and getting taken wasn’t your fault. Kid, feeling like this and getting panics attacks is not your fault in the slightest, I swear. You get me?”

“I get you,” Peter mumbles, “Don’t agree, but I get you.”

“You should believe me. Put it this way, would you blame me for what happened in Afghanistan? Was it my fault that the van blew up? That I got kidnapped?”

“What? No!”   


“So why is this your fault?” Tony says, lifting Peter’s head from his shoulder and looking into his eyes.

Peter screws his face up, squeezing out fresh tears. Tony uses his thumb to brush them away.

“Okay, come on then,” he says softly, “let it out. You’ll probably feel better afterwards, right? How long has this been building up, huh?”

Peter shrugs, “Since it was a month since it happened.”   


“Oh, Pete,” Tony mumbles, “So, you what? Didn’t let yourself panic or cry for like three months?”

“I didn’t want to disappoint anyone,” Peter says, “And I knew that if I had a wobble now after so long everyone would be so disappointed.”   


“We wouldn’t be disappointed, kid. Promise. It’s a normal part of recovery, this.”   


“Doesn’t feel normal.”   


“It doesn’t, does it?” Tony says. “How’s about we fix RIVER’s wires, then go find Steve and Wade? We can probably convince them to dance together, if you want.”   


Peter gives a watery chuckle. “Thanks, dad.”   


“You’re my kid, you don’t need to thank me yet,” Tony says. 

“Still. Thank you.”   


They sit under the table, fiddling with RIVER’s wires for the better part of an hour, until Peter’s tears are dried in tracks on his cheeks and his eyelashes feel sticky and painful. Tony’s cream coloured shirt is turned wet with tears, but it doesn’t appear to bother him. Peter just leans his cheek on Tony’s shoulder and fiddles with the wires.

Tony drums a pattern on Peter’s knee, making suggestions for things to add to RIVER. Peter puts his foot down at water cannons, but admits that a flying feature would be pretty cool.

Tony’s phone rings, blaring ‘American Boy’.

“Does Pops know that that’s your ringtone?” Peter asks as Tony answers.

Tony shakes his head and holds a finger to his lips. Peter gestures for him to put it on speaker, so he does.

“ _ Tony, where are you? And where’s Peter? _ ”

“It’s fine. We’re here,” Tony says, “We’re under a table.”

“ _ You’re what? _ ”

“Under a table. Huh, deja vu,” Tony teases.

“ _ Hilarious _ ,” Steve says, “ _ Where’s this table, then? I’ve got Wade here and he’s kind of worried about Peter. Is this on speaker? _ ”

“Yep,” Peter answers. “Tell him I’m fine.”

“ _ Have you been crying? _ ” Steve asks.

And then Wade, yelling in the background, “ _ Who’s crying? Is Petey crying?! _ ”

“We’ve got it under control, Mr All American,” Tony says, reassuringly. “Pete, do you want them to come find us?”

Peter nods.

“Okay. We’re in the gazebo,” Tony says. “Come alone.”   


“ _ Is there a way to say that that makes it sound like I’m not walking to my death? _ ” Wade asks. Peter chuckles.

Tony grins too, says “See you soon,” and hangs up. 

Peter is still leaning heavily on Tony when Steve knocks on the table and lifts up the cloth. “Alright, Pete?”

“Sugar cookie!” Wade exclaims, diving under. “Everything okay?”

Peter nods, squeezing Wade’s hand.

“There’s no way I’m getting under there,” Steve remarks, “Any way we can move this out from under the table?”

Peter nods again, sliding out from the table and attaching himself to Steve.

Steve, if he’s surprised to receive an armful of son, doesn’t show it. Instead, he pats Peter’s shoulder and whispers, “you okay?”

Peter whispers back, “Yeah.”

Wade leans on the table, and when Peter detaches himself from Steve, pulls him in between Wade’s knees. Peter relaxes, leaning back against Wade’s chest.

“Hey, baby boy, where’s RIVER?” Wade asks.

Tony holds out the bot. “They got a little scuffed up earlier so we were fixing them.”   


Wade takes the robot, places them on Peter’s shoulder and says, “RIVER, stand to attention.” Peter giggles when RIVER stretches and spins around three times.

“Good evening, Wade. Good evening Steve. Good evening Tony. Good evening, Peter,” They recite.

Peter smiles, “hey, RIVER.”

“I assume everything is under control now, then?” RIVER asks, his heat sensors flickering the green light that tells that they’re activated.

“We’re all good, RIVER,” Tony says, “Thanks for getting me.”   


“Yeah,” Peter hums, “Thanks.”   


“Just doing my job, Peter,” RIVER says, but they sound happy.

“You did a good job, then,” Wade says. “Do you want to go home now, Petey?”

“Can we stay here tonight?” Peter asks, feeling utterly drained and completely exhausted.

Steve is nodding before he even finishes. “Don’t even need to ask, Peter. We’ll send all the guests home and get everyone in, if you want. Make some hot chocolate and waffles, or something.”   


“Okay,” Peter agrees.

 

*

 

Bucky is on hot chocolate duty, Bruce on waffle. Natasha has picked out a film or two, and Clint is currently trying to persuade her to change it to Mario Kart. Peter has his feet tucked under Wade’s thighs, and his back pressed against Wade’s chest. RIVER is sitting on the end table, docked in the portable charging station Peter created. Occasionally, they’ll spin up and do the stretch thing whenever they catch a particularly pressing emotion slip past their heat sensors. 

Peter falls asleep at some point. He isn’t sure when. It’s about half way through ‘The Force Awakens’ and Wade is really warm. And he’s tired. And, well, he’s safe right now. He just closes his eyes and he’s gone.

 

AUGUST

 

Peter has expressed to Wade multiple times that he really doesn’t want to do anything massive for his birthday.

Wade has taken the amount of times Peter’s said this into consideration and then planned what is probably the most extreme birthday meal in existence.

“Wade, dammit,” Peter says, folding his fingers around RIVER’s body.

Wade turns and smiles apologetically. “Be glad it’s just this. If Tony had organised it would be way more lavish.”   


“True.”

“I know you said you didn’t want a big thing, but this is the compromise Steve persuaded Tony to,” Wade says, “We can go as soon as you start feeling uncomfortable, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter says. “I’ll probably enjoy it, anyway.”

“Thats the spirit,” Wade grins. “Come on, then,” he says, holding the door open.

Peter ducks inside the smallish restaurant, immediately spotting his family. After all, it wasn’t hard to miss a couple of super soldiers, one of the richest men in the world, a scientist doing his best to hide under the table without actually hiding under the table, and two spies who are wearing what are probably the least inconspicuous clothes ever made.

This should be fun.

“Peter!” Tony exclaims as soon as he catches sight of Peter. “Kid! Happy birthday!”

Peter blushes, his eyes darting to the floor. “Thanks, dad.” He accepts Tony’s hug, and Steve’s hug, and Natasha’s hug, and Clint’s fist bump, and Bruce’s hand-pat. Then he sits down, with Steve to his left and Wade to his right.

“We’ll do presents after eating,” Tony suggests.

“Good idea,” Steve says. “Let’s call the waitress over, then.”

Two waitresses come, actually, both with a plastic looking grin on their faces. There’s a blush dusting across their cheekbones, and one eyes Peter with interest. Wade glares at her, and puts his arm around Peter. Peter chuckles and leans into it, prodding RIVER with one finger where he sits on the table.

“Manners, RIVER,” Peter reminds.

“Yes, Peter,” RIVER says, spinning around to greet Steve. “Good evening, Steve. Good evening, Tony. Good evening, Bruce. Good evening, Natasha. Good evening, Clint.”

“Well done,” Peter mutters, patting RIVER twice on the head with the same fingertip.

RIVER spins around to face the waitresses. The cameras flash green as they pick up the waitresses names. “Good evening, Angie. Good evening, Sara.”

The waitress who kept staring at Peter, Sara, jumps about a foot in the air, glares at Wade’s arm, glares at RIVER, and stalks off.

Angie smiles apologetically. “Sorry ‘bout her. What can I getcha?”

Steve starts listing off the (horrifyingly long) list of food desired. “This’ll be a lot of work,” he says at the end, “Sorry about that.”

“Not a problem, honey! You guys bein’ here means this place’ll get some good press, hopefully,” Angie grins.

“Depends on whether the food is good or not,” Tony jokes.

Thankfully, Angie finds it funny. She giggles, and taps her pencil against the notepad. “Well, I’ll go give this to the chef. If you need anything more, I’ll either be at the counter or wandering around.”

“Awesome,” Clint says. “Thanks.”   


Angie grins once more before backing away.

“She seems kind of familiar,” Steve says. 

Tony nods. “Yeah. But I know a lot of people, so I couldn’t tell you where I know her from.”   


Steve hums. “Well, it’ll come to us. How was your day so far, Peter?”

“It was good,” Peter says. “Great, actually.”

Wade snorts.

Peter blushes.

Clint cheers.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Tony mutters.

Steve, bless him, doesn’t appear to get it. He just chuckles awkwardly and says, “What did you do?”

Which prompts Clint to say, “Probably Wade.”   


So Natasha slaps him round the face, Wade chokes on his laughter and Peter feels like his head is about to explode with how red its gotten.

“Can we please stop talking about my sex life?” Peter interrupts, after letting Wade and Clint laugh for fifteen seconds exactly. “Please?”

Wade sobers; Clint doesn’t.

“If you really want, Clint, I could go into details,” Peter says.

That shuts Clint up rather quick. Natasha finds it hilarious.

 

*

 

Angie brings the food round soon enough, and Peter is pretty sure he can see the table bowing under the weight of it all. 

If she’s phased by the steady flow of meals coming out of the kitchen and making its way to their table, she doesn’t show it and Peter respects her for that.

“So,” Tony says, around a mouthful of double cheese burger. “How’ve you been, for real, Pete? Its been, like, a week since I last saw you.”   


“A week and a half, and It was your fault saying you were too busy to see me,” Peter says.

“I was working on your birthday present,” Tony shrugs. “So, how’ve you been?”

“Good. I mean, nothing special, you know. But not bad.”   


“He’s been teaching RIVER things,” Wade says.

“No, I haven’t!” Peter protests.”You were the one teaching them to arrange the holoparticles in crude images.”

Wade grins. “Right. RIVER, show image three two oh seven.”

“Of course, Wade,” RIVER says. The holoprojector blinks blue and then a middle finger arranges itself in midair.

“Goddammit, Wade,” Peter grumbles, “RIVER, turn it off.”   


“Of course, Peter,” RIVER says, blinking the image out.

“Aw, you ruin all my fun, Petey,” Wade whines.

“Only when it’s inappropriate,” Peter says. “We’re in a restaurant. There’s children here.”

“So? They learn it all at school, anyway, or from their parents and stuff,” Wade shrugs.

“It still makes me feel bad,” Peter mutters.

Wade giggles. “My hero.”

“You two are perfect for each other,” Clint remarks.

“I know, right?” Wade says, squishing Peter into his side.

“Hm. I’m not too sure about that,” Peter grumbles into Wade’s neck.

“Oh, shush. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Peter bites Wade’s neck in retaliation.

“Ouch, sugar! Keep it for the bedroom.”   


“For fuck’s sake, Wade” Peter half yells.

“Who just said swearing makes them feel bad?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re all officially out to get me,” Peter declares. “I’m leaving.”

Clint starts pelting him with fries. “You’re not going anywhere, birthday boy. It’s your day.”

Wade picks up his knife and starts whirling it around his hand, swinging it in front of Peter so it swipes clean through each fry Clint throws in their direction. “Stop abusing my boyfriend.”

Clint is so surprised that Wade is managing to chop each fry in half that he halts. “What- How- How are you managing to hit every single one?”

“Finally met your match, huh, Barton?” Bruce says. 

“Is it that Weapon X bull?” Clint asks, “One of your mutates?”

Wade shakes his head proudly. “Nope. I’ve always been able to do this. Ever since the military.”

“I’ve seen the security footage,” Peter says, “I can vouch.”   


“Holy shit,” Clint says.

Natasha laughs. “Looks like Clint has finally met his match. We should let Coulson know, he’d give Wade an award.”   


“Don’t tell Phil! I don’t think my dignity could survive it,” Clint exclaims. “Nat, please. Don’t tell him, I’m begging.”

“I’m telling him,” Natasha decides, “If it pulls that kind of reaction from you, then there is no way Coulson isn’t going to hear about it.”   


“Fuck you,” Clint sulks.

Bruce chuckles. “I’ll tell him. None of you would dare do anything to me.”

“You have a very good point there, Brucie bear,” Tony says.

“Actually, Tony, I think you’re the only one stupid enough to try to provoke me,” Bruce says.

“It’s a show of trust,” Tony declares. “I trust you and Hulk.”   


“I don’t, though,” Bruce mutters. 

“Well, we do. No moping on Peter’s birthday, okay?”

Bruce smiles. “Sure.”   


“So how are all of you?” Peter asks,

“We’re good,” Natasha says.

“Tired,” Clint supplies.

“You’re always tired, Clint,” Peter says.

“Well, yeah. But that is one hundred percent beside the point.”

“We’ve been play fighting,” Steve says.

“Kinky.”

“Wade!” Peter admonishes.

“What? They can’t say something like that and not expect me to say something,” Wade whines. “Come on, Petey, that’s like asking the impossible.”

“Let me clarify,” Tony says, “By play fighting, Steve actually means we’ve been arguing for three consecutive days over whose job it is to make lunch. And yesterday, Clint and Bucky took the gym to fight it out, like a more violent game of rock paper scissors. Me and Natasha made popcorn and decided to watch. Because watching Clint and Bucky fight is fun. Seriously, it’s kind of hilarious.”

“Who won?” Peter asks.

“Bucky. Every time,” Tony says, “Clint never stood a chance.”

“Thank you, Tony, for that vote of confidence,” Clint grumbles.

Tony turns a megawatt smile in his direction.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, you can fight me next time and I’ll let you win,” Natasha says.

“It doesn’t, actually. I’m not a charity case,” moans Clint. He gives Natasha his middle finger, who mimes biting it off.

“Okay, guys, I think dismemberment is frowned upon in public spaces,” Steve intervenes before it can get too far. “Seriously. It’s Peter’s birthday, so if you did remove one of your fingers, then we wouldn’t be getting you to the hospital for at least an hour.”

“You’re saying we’d be forced to live with one less finger while we finish this meal?” Clint asks.

“You’d have brought it upon yourself,” Steve shrugs, “and yes, that is what I’m saying.”

Wade whistles lowly. “That’s metal, man.”

“You think I haven’t waited for longer with worse injuries?” Natasha raises an eyebrow. “You underestimate me.”

“Well, I really don’t want any of you to lose a finger. And it’s my birthday, so you have to listen to me,” Peter says. “Please don’t bite off anyone’s limbs.”

Natasha turns to him with a soft smile. “Only if someone provokes me.”

Peter’s face screws up in a grimace. “Fine. But I’d prefer if there was no biting or removal of limbs at all. At least, not in my general vicinity.”

“Your wish is my command,” Tony announces. “No biting or removal of limbs.”   


“Isn’t that just common sense?” Bruce asks. “Basic human decency?”

“We’re barely basic humans, Bruce,” Natasha says. “Steve is from the thirties. You’re a, no offence, monster. Clint and I are specially trained super spies. Peter was bitten by a radioactive spider, Wade tortured until his mutation was unlocked. In fact, Tony is probably the most normal of us, and he barely ranks on the normal scale.”

“I take offence to that,” Tony says.

“Got a point though,” Clint says. “Not to mention that one member of our team is rarely even on this world. We’re a fucked up bunch.”

Peter chuckles. “I like us just the way we are.”

“You like fucked up?” Tony asks.

“I hope he does,” Wade says. “Why else would he be dating me?”

Peter looks vaguely put out at that. “You aren’t fucked up. Well, maybe a little bit, but no more than the rest of us. Its my birthday. I don’t want any self depreciative comments, please. Positivity or else, here.”

“Alright, baby boy,” Wade smiles. “No self depreciative humor.”

“Forever?” Peter asks, his eyes hopeful.

Wade’s smile wavers. “Rain check?”

Peter sighs minutely. “Alright.”   


Then Clint throws a slice of garlic bread at Tony, and the moment is broken. 

“How dare you!” Tony yells, wiping dripping garlic butter from his left cheek. Peter laughs at how violated Tony looks.

 

*

 

Peter is exhausted when they get home, almost falling asleep on Wade’s shoulder during the car ride. 

Wade wraps his arm around Peter’s shoulders, and then when realizing Peter is practically dead on his feet, swings his other arm under Peter’s knees and lifts him up.

If Peter was more awake, he probably would have protested. As it was, Peter’s eyes were half closed so Wade was about ninety percent sure that he was barely seeing anyway. So Wade could get away with carrying Peter close to him, cuddled up to his chest so Wade could pretend he was sticking Peter’s broken pieces back together. 

Maybe if he squeezes hard enough, he can.

 

*

 

“Yesterday was fun,” Peter says, rolling over so he can curl up to Wade’s side. The movement pulls the comforter taut from where it’s made its way under Peter’s body in the night, so he can wrap up like a burrito. “Thank you for making me go.”

“I didn’t make you do anything, honey bunches,” Wade says, his voice all thick and warm from sleep.

“Still. You encouraged me to go. Thanks.”

“What time is it?” Wade asks, instead of responding to Peter. “I swear, baby boy, if you’ve woken me up before ten on a weekend. I love you, but I don’t love you that much.”

“Oh, stop it,” Peter teases. “It’s, um, half nine. I think,” his face scrunches adorably. “RIVER, stand to attention.”

Over on their charging dock, RIVER stretches and spins. “Good morning, Peter. Good morning, Wade.”   


“Morning, RIV,” Wade says.

“What time is it?” Peter asks the bot.

“It is forty nine minutes past nine, on the twenty first of August,” RIVER recites.

Wade pauses. “I can make an exception.”

Peter giggles, the vibrations echoing through Wade’s chest. “It’s okay. We can cuddle till ten, if you like.”

“What sorta question is that, Spidey? I thought you were the smart one,” Wade says.

“You’re smart too. Besides, I’m cold,” Peter accompanies this statement with a quick peck on Wade’s lips. Which distracts him from Peter wedging his toes between Wade’s shins.

“Holy shi-IT, Petey,” Wade squeals, “Cold, huh? It’s the middle of summer, you aren’t supposed to get ice cube feet until October at least.”

“I’m part spider,” Peter says, like it’s obvious.

It is obvious. “I know, baby boy. You spend about a third of your day running around in a spider costume.”

“Spiders are cold blooded. I hate the cold. Spiders are able to survive up to minus five degrees celsius, until they eventually slow down and become dormant,” Peter continues. “I’m a human, and most humans die when their body temperature reaches twenty one degrees C. Just because I probably can survive in the cold, because of the spidey stuff, doesn’t mean my body, which is still technically human, is gonna like it. Or deal with it as well as a normal spider would. Although I would fare better than a normal human being. And before you say it, I’m not testing out that freezing temperature. I would rather not freeze to death, thanks.”

“I love it when you talk all science to me,” Wade says.

Peter huffs out a surprised laugh. “Did you listen to anything I just said?”

Wade nods. “Mhm. Yep. Spiders, cold blooded. Humans, not. Spiders can survive in the cold. Humans can’t. Peter might be able to, but isn’t testing it.”

“Well, you’ve got the basics,” Peter says, grinning. “So long as you don’t try to shove me in the freezer at any point.”

“Why the hell would I do that, pumpkin?”

“I dunno,” Peter shrugs. “Science?”

Wade laughs so hard, it makes Peter jump.

 

SEPTEMBER

 

Life feels like it’s slowing down.

Or, at least, it does to Peter.

Everything is slow now. His brain, his work, his everything. And it would be a welcome change if it didn’t bring with it the transition into autumn.

Because autumn was wet, and cold, and all Wade wanted to do was go outside and jump in leaves. All Peter wanted to do was stay curled up on the couch, with a mug of tea and a book, or his knitting, and race the raindrops down the window.

Wade sat through countless, tedious, raindrop races. Peter was actually quite impressed. Even if his raindrops always won, not Wades.

Clint and Wade had taken the dogs out (in the rain, and the wind, and the cold, and Peter didn’t envy them one bit), leaving him at home with Isaac Mewton, Natasha and his knitting.

“So,” Natasha says.

“So?” Peter repeats, and then cursing when he slips a stitch in the red and black Deadpool scarf he’s making Wade.

“How’s Wade? How are you? How’s RIVER? Feels like we hardly see you anymore, Peter. You gotta keep me in the loop so I know who to kill and who not to kill.”

“As much as I appreciate the meaning behind this theoretical - I hope - killing, why don’t we leave the death count and the felony charges at zero?,” Peter says, “And as for keeping you in the loop. Well, there aren’t many loops to speak of. September is a slow month.”   


“Got that right,” Natasha grumbles. “Where are all the supervillains when you need something to do?”

Peter chuckles. “Jinxed it now. Maybe they’re getting ready to hibernate?”

“I wish. They’re probably rallying forces as we speak,” Natasha jokes.

“Knowing our luck, they probably are,” Peter says. He sets his work in progress scarf beside him. “Want a drink?”

Natasha nods. “Coffee?”

“Got it.”

Peter spends five minutes perfecting the coffee. While he knows that Natasha probably wouldn’t cause him irreparable damage for an incorrectly brewed cup of jow, well. Better safe than sorry. Besides, Natasha is a horrifyingly scary woman and Peter hasn’t made coffee in a while. He doesn’t want to take any chances.

He even manages to make a fancy little swirl out of the froth on top. Natasha grins when she sees it (and if Peter’s heart rate finally stops beating out of his chest when she smiles, then that’s nobody’s business but his).

“What coffee is this?” Natasha asks, five minutes and two rows of knitting later.

Peter shrugs. “No idea. Whatever’s in the cupboard. It’s probably something Wade brought? Is it good?”

Natasha nods. “Yeah. I’d have thought you would have brought it, though.”

“Oh, well it was Wade’s turn for groceries this week.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Do you guys have, like, a chore chart?”

Peter smiles sheepishly and nods. “Yep. It’s working pretty well so far, though, so I can’t complain. Whoever gets the groceries has to put them all away, and cook all the meals for this week. That way if Wade wants something particular, then he gets to buy it and make it. He’s only set the fire alarm off once, so far. Whoever didn’t buy groceries has to do the dishes and clean this place and everything. Like I said, it works for us, so.”

“Very domestic,” Natasha says, sipping the coffee. It’s still steaming, and Peter wonders how she doesn’t even react when it must be burning all of her taste buds off.

He huffs out a laugh and grins. “Everyone says that. How we’re practically married already. But I don’t know. It could just be we’re still in the honeymoon period, you know?”

Natasha hums, considering that. “I don’t think you are. You’re fully comfortable with one another, and you’ve been through a lot of shit this past year. If you were still in the honeymoon period, I don’t think you would have been able to move in with him if you were still in the cupcake phase, or the honeymoon period.”

“I don’t think I would have been able to either,” Peter admits. “Hell, we had never slept, like actual sleep, until that day dad found out. Wade is the worst at sleepovers.”

“Really?” Natasha’s eyes widen the slightest amount. “You’ve never stayed over night, or vice versa?”

“Well, we all knew how dad would react. I didn’t want to risk it. And whilst I used to push him from my window on a regular basis, I don’t think I could have lived with knowing that dad and pops would probably have killed him just to, you know, kill him.”   


“I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself knowing I let them do that either,” Natasha says. “I say this in the nicest way possible, Peter, you know that, but I’m a little bit glad you got kidnapped. It brought Wade and Tony together in a way I don’t think anything else could have, especially after their first meeting. They both suddenly have to work together to fight for their common denominator, you know? Nothing could have brought them closer.”

Peter nods. “I know.”   


“Tony only apologised after Steve did, but he and Wade seemed to get along better after. I think Tony definitely felt guilty.”   


“I’m just glad he apologised. Wade just forgives and forgives, even if what he’s forgiving mentally or physically hurt him. He’s had to stop me from going out to hurt someone who made him upset, because he said he’s already forgiven them, and ‘Really, Petey, with this ugly mug, I don’t blame them for telling me I look like some sort of hell demon.’ I think he’s a lot like dad in that respect.”

Natasha chuckles. “Funny, isn’t it? How the most similar people end up being either best friends or arch enemies.”   


“I’m just happy they get along now. I’m not too happy about the circumstances in which they made up, but I’m glad they did.” “What would you have done if Tony and Steve didn’t approve of Wade?” She asks.

Peter shrugs. “I dunno. There’s no way Tony would leave me out there to fend for myself, and I’m an adult anyway, so I would probably have found a place and moved there. And relied on my Auntie Nat to be the peacekeeper at awkward, mandatory Christmas dinners.”

“Really?” She laughs, though. “You’d really do that for him?"

Peter nods seriously. “I love him, Nat. I really do. He’s do anything for me, so I’d do anything for him. Only he would probably come back from it, and I wouldn’t.”   


“I’m glad the team and I found out before Steve and Tony,” Natasha says. “I’m glad we got a chance to see how you are, and observe your dynamic before Steve ordered for us to ignore Wade whenever he visited or something.”   


“I’m glad too,” Peter says. “I’m just glad it’s over now, really. It doesn’t feel like we’ve been dating for nineteen months or so, now. It barely feels like nearly a year since, you know. Its gone a lot quicker then I expected.”

“You’re making good progress though. Not many people could come back from all that and be doing this good so soon after,” Natasha tells him.

“How do you all know what happened?” Peter asks.

Natasha frowns, pausing. “Well, they. They sent us videos of it.”

“All of it?” Peter’s eyes widened.

“Everyone but me, Steve and the SHIELD guys stopped watching after a week or so,” Natasha says. “I didn’t want Wade to see what they were doing to you.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to handle it,” Peter agrees. “I’m- I’m sorry you had to watch them all.”   


“I’m sorry you had to experience it,” Natasha counters. “I think Clint and Tony read the SHIELD file on what happened to, so they know the shorthand. But its okay. Tony destroyed a few prototypes for new SHIELD vests, and he was good. Clint got to knock a few dozen people out a few days before we found you, so he got his anger out.”

“Where did Clint find people to knock out?”

“Oh, side mission. A lead to you. Clint and Coulson went in, Coulson got caught. So Clint, like the reckless idiot he always is, thought the best course of action was to beat all of the undercover bad guys there to within and inch of their lives, find Coulson and get out. Has anyone sent you the file for that yet?”

Peter shakes his head.

“I’ll show you now,” Natasha says, “where’s your laptop? We might have to hack SHIELD for this. I’m not sure what level this op was classified as, but it was one we made the call for, not the senior agents at SHIELD. It could be level ten, or free for all.”   


Peter grins, standing up to slide his laptop off the table. “Hacking SHIELD. My favourite past time.”

“Mine, too,” Natasha says, taking the computer from him and typing unbelievably fast.

“How many times have you done this?”

“Let’s see,” She taps her right index finger on the space bar. “A couple of times for when Coulson got sent on classified missions and Clint had nightmares over it. They never told us where he was going, so it was generally up to us to find out. I did the same for Coulson, whenever they sent Clint out. This was all before the Avengers, and we were the most valuable agents SHIELD had to offer. So they wouldn’t fire us, lest some evil corporation snatch us up and use all of our SHIELD enhanced spy training to use us to infiltrate SHIELD HQ.”

“Logical,” Peter allows.

“It is, isn’t it? Meant I could hack into whatever I wanted it, and if I was clever, they would reward it. Say I was just practising what I had learned in ‘How To Be James Bond 101’.”

“Do they actually call the classes that?” Peter asks.

Natasha chuckles. “No. But Skye, one of the agents on Phil’s team, she made a sign and put it on the door of the S.O. building.”   


“S.O.?”

“I keep forgetting you aren’t a proper SHIELD agent,” Natasha says, “You remind me of Clint sometimes. Back when we were both relatively new. An S.O. is your supervising officer. When you’re a new agent, you get assigned one. They keep you out of trouble as best they can, and they fatten you up till you can hold your own in a fight. Phil was mine and Clint’s. Then we moved through the ranks, and he became our handler instead. Then he became Clint’s boyfriend, and my best friend. And now we’re like family. He probably knows more about me then any one on the time.”

“Including me?”

“You’re coming in third on the Natasha Romanov trivia scale,” Natasha says. “Phil, Clint, you.”   


“Thanks for trusting me with that,” Peter says.

“You’re a lot more mature than Tony was, you know,” She muses. “Sometimes I wonder how you and him are even related.”

Peter laughs. “I get that a lot. I look like dad and feel like pops. That’s what they say.”

“They’re not wrong,” Natasha says. “Got Tony’s brain, though.”

“I’m not mature enough to be responsible for the lives of six people, if that’s what you mean. I prefer to be in the background, making all the things and finding out all the stuff from the comfort of my own home.”   


“Action is fun,” Natasha says. “In moderation.”

“Yeah,” Peter repeats. “In moderation. Like all the best things in life. Chocolate in moderation. Video games in moderation.”

“Unless you almost died. Then you get as many video games and chocolates as you want.”   


“That,” Peter says, “is very smart.”

 

*

 

“Heya, Petey!” Wade calls, letting himself in. “And Auntie Nat. Hi, Auntie Nat.”   


“Hi, Wade,” Natasha says.

Peter leans over the couch, and Wade bends over to kiss his mouth. Peter pulls away in grimaces. “What the hell were you doing?”

“I was protecting little girls and boys, suga. What do you think I was doing?”

“It looks like you dove into a swimming pool full of red food colouring,” Peter says, “Only it smells like blood. Ick. Did you kill anyone?”

“No, silly. I did promise you, remember?”

“I remember,” Peter says. “How come you’re covered in blood then?” He swipes a finger down Wade’s front, and then licks a tiny bit of tacky blood from his finger tip.

“Yuck, Petey. We talked about you drinking random blood.”   


“You drink blood?” Natasha turns to him with raised eyebrows.

Peter almost chokes. “No! No, I don’t. It’s just a spider thing. I don’t actively drink blood, but I’m not, you know, opposed to it. I can tell who someone is by their blood. And this isn’t Wade’s blood, which makes me very happy.”   


“How do you know that blood isn’t infected with something?” Natasha asks, watching Peter lick his finger clean now. “That’s really weird.”

“I don’t know that it isn’t infected with anything,” Peter shrugs.

“Which is why we talked about this infuriating habit of yours,” Wade reminds.

Peter smiles. “But it’s fine. I’m spider enough that I can create venom, which, for want of a better phrase, acts as antibacterial and eliminates all harmful bacteria.”   


“You can create venom?” Natasha sounds astonished. “Why don’t we know about this?”

“Because I can’t do anything with it. I haven’t found a way to successfully extract it without it all drying up, yet. Anyway, it’s uncomfortable to hold a beaker in your mouth for extended periods of time. I can’t even infect people with it if I bite them. Which I don’t. But if I did, it probably wouldn’t have enough force to infect their bloodstream. So the only thing I can use it for is to eradicate harmful germs whenever I eat something less than savoury. Like blood.”

“It’s still weird,” Natasha says. “And you probably should have told Tony at least.”   


Peter shrugs. “I can’t do anything with it. There isn’t really any point to it. It just helps when keeping the things I ingest clean.”

“And we have talked about this,” Wade says.

“Yeah, but it is helpful. Especially when I have to try to find out who’s blood Wade is covered in. Or a victim, or something.”   


“Right,” Natasha says dryly. “Because I’m sure it comforts people to know that their saviour is a part spider, who can tell who attacked them by their blood.”

“People always do react weird when they see him eat blood and then declare who needs to be locked up,” Wade says, “It kind of makes patrolling with him worth it.”   


Peter just rolls his eyes. “Saving lives is what makes it worth it too. But you take the wins where you can get them.”

“You could turn it into a job,” Natasha says.

“What, stand on street corners and declare myself some sort of crazy weird psychic? That would probably get me locked up.”   


Wade laughs, loudly. “‘Peter Parker, he’ll drink your blood and tell you who hurt you.’ I can see that going down well with the police.”   


Natasha laughs.

“Well,” Wade continues, “You never know. We could get loads of money from it, then we’ll be living like kings, Spides.”

 

**_END_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TITLE DROP TITLE DROP TITLE DROP  
> wow. i shed tears over this. i actually well and truly did.
> 
> so, river is an OC and i love them anyway.
> 
> i wrote most of april while half asleep. which is why its mostly fluff. i also kept forgetting that the age rating is mature so i can add in the implications of sexytimes if i want to (because flat out writing it still makes me feel weird. who knows. maybe one day)
> 
> may: i googled it. ventromedial frontal lobes is actually where you find things funny in your brain! also, who wants to see me write a teacher peter au? because i love them.
> 
> june: so i know nothing about engineering or mechanics or coding or making a robot. bullshitting it till i get there. this month was basically my excuse to write peter and tony fluff
> 
> julY: okay july was also an excuse to write peter and tony. and a bit of wade and steve. 
> 
> august: couldnt find anything for peters birthday other than august, which i read somewhere ages ago. so i chose to do andrew g's birthday, which is the 20th because idk. i just thought it sort of fitting. also, angie is sort of inspired by angie from agent carter. i love peggy carter so fucking much you guys. i also took a few liberties with the spider-human abilities at the end. although im fairly certain the temperature things are both correct. its fiction, i can bend it as much as i want.
> 
> september: peter and nat are my fav relationship to write honestly. momma spider ftw. watch me bullshitting my way   
> through this venom blood drinking thing. i dont fucking know, you guys. we're pretending it makes sense.
> 
> hey FUN FACT this fic is now officially longer than harry potter and the philosophers stone.
> 
> i also think my typing changed half way through. like i went from 'colored' to 'coloured' because im actually british and whilst i try to write my fics set in america with the american words and my fics set in england with the english wording, it mixes up sometimes.
> 
> so, this fic is over now. who wants a sequel?
> 
> as always, comment if you enjoyed it. i love you, and ill see you in whatever i post next.

**Author's Note:**

> hope u loved it. if u did, comment what u thought! love u!
> 
> now go take care of urself. 
> 
> next chapter to be up soon (i hope)  
> xoxo


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